


Change

by sageclover61



Series: Paradise [4]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Archangels, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Chuck is so evil there will never be redemption for him, Comfort, Don't @ Me, Family Feels, Heaven's Roadhouse, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Michael is a good big brother, Not four, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Raphael is the best parent, Samandriel is the cutest fledgling that ever existed, Seven Archangels - Freeform, Snowmen, There are actually seven archangels, aroace raphael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageclover61/pseuds/sageclover61
Summary: Samandriel is an adorable fledgling, but that doesn't explain why he's a fledgling or why Raphael looks after him the most.Meanwhile, someone can't count how many archangels there really are, and it's revealed exactly what happened before the Fall.





	1. Divine Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Nanowrimo project! (This 'verse, anyway). As ever, I really appreciate my lovely betas, Hyrule and Thal, throwing ideas at me. The reason this is a good omens crossover is because I almost started a new 'verse, and then decided to just add it to this one. It's all good here!

* * *

 

“Wake up! Wake up! Rafa, it's snowing!”

 

Raphael opened his eyes. He was surrounded by a mess of blankets and pillows and it took him a minute to remember that he'd come back to find Michael making a nest of the room they'd all been sharing and he had been of half a mind to sleep somewhere else. Michael had convinced him not to leave, but he'd refused to help. It was part of Michael's bonding ritual, after all. Raphael was not getting in the middle of that. Nope. Not happening.

 

“Rafa! Snow!” the fledgling repeated, reminding Raphael why he was awake.

 

The healer stood, stretching his limbs and shaking out the feathers that had stuck to his wings. They itched enough to remind him that he was about due a molt. It would have to wait, Lucifer hadn't had one in the cage nor Michael while he'd been sleeping. Lucifer needed his the most, of course, and he wasn't sure how Gabriel's feathers were doing.

 

Raphael approached where Samandriel was standing in the doorway. “Snowing. Where?”

 

“I show you!” The fledgling reached for Raphael’s hand and the archangel allowed the fledgling to lead him. The healer wasn’t sure where they were going, but he didn’t mind.

 

Samandriel led him towards the Axis Mundi. The garden was at the very center of heaven, with the city built around and outside it. When Zachariah had chased the hunters through heaven, along the Axis Mundi, the road had led to the garden because they had not been able to see the city of heaven. The road always led to the garden,  _ all roads lead to Rome.  _ In the reverse, the mortal heavens were outside the city and backtracking along the road would lead deeper into them. When had Samandriel started following the Axis Mundi?

 

The Axis Mundi was not difficult for angels to navigate. They saw it for what it really was. Humans were less restricted by reality, and the Winchesters had been able to shape it as they’d desired because they were not bound by it. They’d seen it in a way their minds were capable of understanding, and because of that they had not followed a straight path and had instead created shortcuts.

 

Samandriel, however, was a fledgling, and did not adhere to the rigidity angels had been determined to bind themselves to. Their brethren had chosen to become emotionless and obedient beings without any expression of creativity or free will. They did not try to make changes.

 

The fledgling led Raphael along the Axis Mundi, and it shifted for him. Not noticeably, but Raphael felt it. It was shaped by Samandriel’s desires, even if he didn’t consciously notice.

 

They followed the road. It didn’t enter any of the human spaces, just a walkway between and around them. Raphael had no idea where the road would lead, since they were traveling away from the garden. There were other roads to the gates of heaven, would it lead them to some edge of heaven? Would it travel past all the human space forever? He didn’t know, wasn’t sure he cared to know, except he didn’t want Samandriel to get lost following it. Would the fledgling fall out of Heaven if he wasn’t better supervised?

 

“We're almost there.”

 

Samandriel's voice cut through Raphael's thoughts. He wasn't sure where they were, except just ahead of them it appeared as though the Axis Mundi stopped.

 

“Where?” he asked.

 

“There.” The fledgling pulled him to the very end of the path and then a few steps further, pulling him into a human heaven.

 

The first thing Raphael noticed was the snow. It was snowing hard and within seconds his wings were coated. It would have obscured human vision with how heavy the snowfall was, but he was an archangel and he was less limited.

 

“Snow, Rafa!” the fledgling squealed.

 

Raphael smiled. He’d wondered at times if he’d failed in looking after the fledgling by giving him jobs i the healing of their siblings when Samandriel might have preferred playing. Except the fledgling had expressed joy at being “helpful” so it didn’t seem so unfair. But he hadn’t had a lot of time to watch the child at play, and here he was, expressing simple joy at this weather.

 

The fledgling tipped over backwards, laughing as he hit the snow on the ground and sent up a puff of snow as it gave way underneath him. Samandriel wiggled, dragging his hands and feet through the snow.

 

“What are you doing, Sami?” Raphael asked. He didn’t quite understand the action, but it didn’t matter because the fledgling was having fun.

 

“Humans think they’re snow angels, but they don’t know what wings really look like.” He sat up and spread his wings before lying back down in the snow, getting snow all over his wings and leaving an impression of them in the snow.

 

The archangel stared in confusion, shifting his wings to shake off the snow. The cold made the itchiness worse.  _ Can’t molt now, not yet, _ he reminded himself. The cold wasn’t very noticable to his form, except their wings were the most sensitive part of their bodies, especially around the time of a molt.

 

The snow stuck to Samandriel’s wings and he squealed in delight. “Tickles!” he laughed, hopping around as though in an attempt to get the snow off.

 

Beyond the yard, there was a building. It didn’t look like a house, more like an old tavern. There was a neon sign reading, “Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

 

The door swung open and two people exited the building, both women. The first was a young blonde woman and the other was an older woman.

 

Samandriel stopped jumping up at and down, turning to look at the people. “Hello!” he shouted at them as they walked through the snow towards them.

 

“Sami,” Raphael said as it looked like he was about to make a beeline for the blonde. “Do you know them?”

 

“That’s Jo and Ellen,” Samandriel answered.

 

“Have you ever made a snow person?” the younger woman asked, clearly addressing Samandriel. Without waiting for a response from either of them, she kneeled in the snow and started pulling it together as though pushing it together.

 

Samandriel watched curiously before moving to join her, already asking questions. Raphael didn’t stop him, curious to see what the intention of the humans was. He glanced towards the older woman without letting Samandriel out of his sight.

 

The older woman did not approach Samandriel, but instead approached Raphael. “What brings you here?” she asked, straight to the point.

 

Raphael tilted his head, then motioned towards the fledgling. “Samandriel wanted me to see the snow.”

 

The woman nodded. “Enthusiastic child. It didn’t start snowing until after he arrived.” She looked towards him. “Is that normal?”

 

Raphael had wondered if Samandriel had influenced the weather, but he hadn’t thought about it greatly. He shrugged. “Would you like me to fix it? This place should reflect the person whose memory this is.” He studied both of them, and found that neither women were memories, but he could also tell that  _ this  _ wasn’t a creation of their memories, but someone else’s. That was interesting, as it shouldn’t have been possible. Whose memory was it?

 

“I think Sami would be upset by that, he seems to like the snow.” The woman turned her head to where the younger woman and the fledgling appeared to be building some kind of humanoid thing out of snow.

 

Raphael wasn’t sure that Samandriel had ever seen snow before this. The weather didn’t change within the confines of the angel part of heaven and Samandriel wasn’t really supposed to wander around out here all by himself. Humans in Heaven couldn’t, for the most part, hurt Samandriel, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get lost or that Raphael didn’t worry about his charge. But the woman was right, and he’d never prioritized humans over Samandriel before. He wasn’t about to start now.

 

“My name is Ellen,” the human added after a moment. “That’s my daughter, Jo.” She nodded towards the blonde.

 

Raphael wasn’t sure exactly how old the younger woman was, but he decided she was probably in her early 20’s.

 

“Who are you?” Ellen asked next. “And what are you to Sami?”

 

There was a strange protectiveness in the woman’s voice that Raphael didn’t understand. It should have been pretty clear to the woman that Samandriel, at least, was an angelic child, and that he was an angel. So why would she feel any protective feelings towards a child that wasn’t even her species?

 

“I’m Raphael,” he said. He watched as Ellen’s eyes widened. There was recognition in her expression, suggesting that she perhaps knew some about who he was. “Samandriel is my…” Raphael had to think about the answer to that, because there were plenty of English words that only carried some of the meaning behind what he was to Samandriel. “Ward, I think you would say? I’m his guardian, but that’s not an exact translation, as he’s a ward of Heaven. He’s my youngest brother, and I take care of him.”

 

“And let a child his age run around by himself?” She glanced at him, a bit skeptical, with a hint of displeasure.

 

“Why not? He’s almost six thousand Earth years old and there’s very little that could hurt him.” Raphael swallowed, trying to ignore the thoughts trying to creep up of what  _ could  _ hurt Sami,  _ had _ hurt Sami. He was also fairly certain that everyone knew what would happen to anyone who tried to hurt  _ his  _ fledgling. It had only needed to happen once.

 

Ellen raised an eyebrow. “He’s six thousand years old, and still a fledgling? How old must the rest of your kind be?”

 

“Six thousand years ago, Earth was formed. We did not have a way to measure time before that, but time passes here at the same rate it does in Hell, with approximately ten years here for every month that passes on Earth. Sami is the exception, not the rule. He’ll always be a fledgling.  _ My  _ fledgling.”

 

Ellen’s eyebrow did not drop. “ _ Your  _ fledgling. What, did you do something to keep him from aging or-”

 

“ _ No _ .” Raphael’s denial was more forceful than necessary, and his teeth clenched as he fought back the minor urge to  _ smite  _ her for suggesting such a thing. “No,” he repeated after a moment. “I look after Samandriel because someone has to, and because I want to, and because I  _ might  _ feel some responsibility for what happened, but it was  _ not  _ my idea, nor my desire, and it was  _ not _ something I supported. I  _ smote _ the hubristic seraph who did this.” It had been an unintentional display of Raphael losing his considerable control and there was no fighting the memories this time, but he didn’t try to fight them as much as he might have otherwise. Samandriel was occupied, and this human seemed unlikely to share this with anyone else.

 

The eyebrow did lower itself this time, and Ellen nodded. “If it wasn’t something you wanted, why did she do it? You were the highest ranking angel around at the time, weren’t you?”

 

Raphael chose not to question how she knew that. Michael had been slumbering, and the rest had been long gone. Some of them were still gone, but that wasn’t relevant. “A long time ago, I asked this seraph to lessen the pain of a suffering archangel whose agony would have killed him. I did not know that in doing so, she would continue experimenting to see what other things she could do. She sought to create an army of  _ fledglings _ . Sami was her first and only test subject, and not only did she fail, but he managed to escape and find me. She had been chasing him, and in my wrath at such a blatant destruction of innocence, I smote her.” He shook his head to keep the memories from overwhelming him. It was over and done with, and Sami rarely seemed the worse for wear for it. He was an excitable child, and he always would be, and there was nothing inherently wrong with that. “He is  _ my  _ excitable fledgling and I wouldn’t have him any other way.” A warmth softened the harsh tone of his words.

 

Ellen gave him a soft smile. “No, I bet you wouldn’t. No parent worth their salt would have their children any other way.”

 

Jo and Samandriel had a large ball of snow, and had placed a second, slightly smaller ball of snow on top of it. They were now in the process of rolling a third ball of snow.

 

Raphael and Ellen watched in relative silence as the human and the fledgling finished building the third ball of snow and then lifting it on top of the other two. It looked like it took considerably less work for the two of them to lift it than anyone would have guess.

 

“Now for the-”

 

“Wings!” Samandriel exclaimed. “We can’t forget the wings!”

 

Jo looked confused. “How are we going to make wings?”

 

“I show you!” And then Samandriel proceeded to sculpt three pairs of wings onto the snow angel. At some point, there also ended up being a halo floating above the angel's head. They made eyes and mouth for the snowman out of colored stones they found in the ground.

 

When the snow angel was complete, Samandriel bounded over to Raphael's side. “Rafa! Rafa! Come see! I made a snow you!”

 

Raphael smiled. “Show me,” he said, in English for the benefit of the humans. He'd long since learned to understand Samandriel's way of speaking, but that didn't mean he always knew what language the fledgling was using.

 

The fledgling took the archangel's hand and led him closer. “It has six wings, just like you sometimes. And your halo, you know, the fancy one!”

 

They walked around the snowman so Samandriel could point out these features. The fledgling was right about Raphael having three sets of wings. All the archangels had three pairs of wings, but the second two pairs had specific purposes and were not typically visible the rest of the time. But Samandriel had seen them all, once.

 

“Rocks look just like your eyes, Rafa,” the fledgling added, and continued pointing out the similarities.

 

“You made a beautiful snow angel,” Raphael said quietly to the eager fledgling.

 

“Good!” The child wrapped his arms around Raphael, hugging him. “Up!”

 

Raphael laughed and hoisted the fledgling up onto his hip as the child yawned and leaned into him. “Is it naptime, Sami?”

 

“No!” Sami denied, whining softly as he did, but he didn't ask to be let down or pull away. Instead, he put his head on Raphael's shoulder and closed his eyes.

 

Raphael turned to where Ellen and Hi were watching. “You'll have to excuse me, this little one could use some quiet time.”

 

“No problem at all,” Ellen said, still smiling. “You're both welcome whenever you want to drop by.”

 

“Hear that, Sami? They want you to come back sometime.” Raphael thanked the humans, and then headed back to the family nest. Samandriel was asleep by the time they returned.

 

The other three archangels in the family nest were still sleeping, so Raphael laid down a few feet from Gabriel and pretended to himself that his wings were not going to itch dreadfully once the snow started melting. Before he dozed off, he gently dried Samandriel's wings off so they wouldn't get itchy or chafed. His own wings were too big to try doing the same.

 

Sometime later he felt someone shake his shoulder. “There's too much to do for you to sleep another century!”

 

“If you wake my fledgling, I will end you,” he growled without opening his eyes.

 

“Samandriel? He woke up awhile ago and went to play.”

 

Now that Raphael was more awake, he could tell that this was Gabriel. That was not a surprise. He opened his eyes to find that Gabriel was right there. “Well, if you've stolen away my snuggle buddy, maybe I'll just have to steal you away!” He reached out to tug Gabriel towards him.

 

Gabriel laughed. He struggled, but not enough to suggest he really wanted free. “No! No! You can't have me!” He continued laughing, even as he moved to snuggle against Raphael's chest.

 

The Healer froze at the sudden onslaught of memories and nausea rose in the back of Raphael's throat. This brought up too many memories of a time before the Fall and other archangels he had snuggled with. A whimper escaped him against his will. He'd wanted his family whole, damnit, not just half.

 

Michael, Heylel, and Gabriel had been easiest to bring home, because the implications had been that they would be the ones in the middle of the world ending apocalypse. Raphael knew whose memories had been wiped, and that he was safe and at least a little happy, which would have to be enough for now, but then there were the two presumed dead. Samael, whose existence had been almost entirely wiped from their minds by the Creator, and Azi, Raphael's identical twin.

 

“Raph, it's okay,” Gabriel whispered, instantly sobering at seeing his brother in distress and wrapping his wings around Raphael in a hug. “It's okay to miss them.”

 

Raphael pressed his forehead against Gabriel's shoulder. He took a shuddering breath, and allowed himself to cry about what the Creator has done, just this once.

 

They laid there for a long time, Raphael finally letting go of pain and emotions he'd buried for thousands of years.

 

Michael and Lucifer watched sadly from where they were lying. Michael was mindlessly running his fingers through Lucifer's feathers. He was trying to groom them properly, but some of the feathers were falling out instead of coming clean. “I think your wings are trying to tell you something,” Michael said. “When was your last molt?”

 

Lucifer shrugged. “Before the cage.”

 

Gabriel leaned back when Raphael fell into an uneasy sleep. “I think Raph's pushing his down.”

 

Michael shook his head in exasperation. “He always did have a harder time hiding his emotions when he was supposed to be molting.” The eldest archangel glanced at Gabriel. “And what about you? When was your last molt?”

 

Gabriel sulked. “Before I ran away. I couldn't very well molt on Earth and give away the fact that I wasn't what I was pretending to be.” He sighed. “And you, Mikha? Going to rub it in our faces that you probably molted like clockwork?”

 

“I took a very long nap, so I don't think I molted either.” He eyed Raphael tenderly. “I imagine I'll have to ask Rafa'el about that.”

 

“Let him sleep,” Lucifer said. “If we're all about to molt, he's going to need it.”

 

Gabriel untangled himself carefully without waking Raphael and stood up. “I'll be right back, but there's something I need to take care of real quick.”

  
  
  


Samandriel watched with curiosity as Gabriel wrapped a piece of shiny paper around a book. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“An old friend of mine collects rare books, and I think he’d appreciate this one. I think it’s the only copy left.”

 

“Who’s your friend?” the fledgling asked.

 

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s a secret, Sami. But I think it’s about time he came home.”

 

Samandriel watched, eyes wide, as Gabriel waved a hand and the book disappeared. With the package gone, Gabriel led the fledgling back to the family nest.

* * *

  
  


In Soho, there was a thud on the doorstep of an old bookstore while a demon and an angel were drinking tea in the backroom.

 

“What was that?” the demon asked.

 

“I’m not sure, Dearest,” the angel replied, standing. “I’ll go take a look.”

 

A few minutes later the angel had returned, this time carrying a wrapped present. The wrapping paper was a metallic blue color, and there was no tag identifying the sender or the recipient.

 

“What is that?”

 

“I’m not sure. Let’s find out.” The angel tore the paper carefully, revealing a very old book. The title was not very legible, but the angel was able to determine that it read, “The true story of the Arthurian Legends.” Sticking out of the book was a piece of paper, so he pulled it out. As far as he could tell it was a letter, but it didn’t have a proper heading and it was signed with nothing more than the letter G, which was more than any of the past objects left randomly on his doorstep had included.

 

“Why would someone called G leave that on your doorstep?”

 

“Someone’s been doing it for a few thousand years, Crowley, and I have yet to figure out why.”

 

The demon raised an eyebrow. “Have you kept everything? Perhaps there's a pattern or something. They must have left some clue as to their identity!”

 

“Maybe they did. I have saved everything they left, just in case the proper recipient ever dropped by. I'll be right back.”

 

When the angel returned, he was holding a wooden crate. He placed it on the table in the back room so that they could both get a better look at the contents.

 

Crowley rummaged through the bin. He took care not to damage any of the contents as he laid them across the table, and when he was done, he said, “Aziraphale, I think someone knows you very very well.”

 

“Do you really think they're for me?”

 

The contents of the box were two things. One of a kind books, many of them supposed to have been lost to the ages, and scraps of parchment that contained vague letters or the drawings of children.

 

“I have read all the books. They're all very interesting. But I thought the notes attached were too personal to be sent by someone I don't know.”

 

Crowley glanced at some of the notes. “I think they do know you, Azi. I think you know them too, even if you don't remember it.”

 

Aziraphale frowned, and then pointed at a specific book. “That was the first one that came. It arrived after a week I have never been able to recall. I had thought it was just a coincidence.”

 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “And you didn't think that was significant?” He shook his head, then reached for the newest book and note. “If this really is the first time they have identified themselves, then there must be something important in this book that they want you to know.”

 

“I am familiar with King Arthur, Crowley. We lived through it, remember?” Despite his words, Aziraphale opened the book.

 

Instead of words, this was a book of paintings. They flipped through it, and there was no writing or secret messages on the pages. It was just old paintings of various scenes that were recognizable as being of Arthurian legend.

 

Except there was a specific painting that stood out to them both. “Isn't that your flaming sword?” Crowley asked at the same time Aziraphale said, “That looks like our duck pond.”

 

Crowley glanced at the note G had sent. It read, 'Now is the time to reclaim your rightful heritage!’ The demon laughed as the realization hit him.

 

The angel stared at his demon. “Yes, Dear?”

 

Crowley couldn't stop laughing, but he eventually ground out, “They, they are comparing you to King Arthur returning.”

 

“Oh,” he said. “Does that make you Merlin?”

 

The demon laughed harder. When he finally stopped laughing, he grinned. “Let’s go check out the duck pond.”

 

“But if my sword really was there, wouldn’t we have figured that out by now?” Aziraphale asked.

 

“Maybe someone put spells on it.” Crowley shrugged. “Either way, I want to know. Let’s go on an adventure.”

 

That’s how the angel ended up in the passenger seat of the Bentley, with Crowley driving far too quickly in the direction of the Tadfield duck park. When they arrived, they headed straight for the pond and went to stand in the middle of the bridge.

 

“Why would it be here?” Aziraphale asked, looking over the railing and into the water. It was murky, impossible to see the bottom.

 

“You never know,” Crowley said. “Maybe it’s part of that ineffable plan you’re always going on about? You gave your sword to the humans and I led them astray. Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here today.”

 

“Very true,” the angel agreed. He closed his eyes. “We can’t just miracle away all the water, the humans would notice.”

 

“Getting water on this suit would ruin it,” Crowley pouted. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand anyway.

 

“It is my sword. If it’s here, it should come.” Aziraphale focused on what he could _feel_. The hand of his mate, the wood of the bridge, the water in the pond. Wards that he’d never ever noticed before, that felt _familiar,_ but not in a way he could identify. He could only see them because he was specifically looking, but even then, others would not have. _They felt kind of like his own grace, somehow._ _But beneath it, he felt the warmth he remembered. It had been a flaming sword, after all. His flaming sword. “Come, IADENAHMAD.”_

 

Meanwhile, in Heaven, an archangel shot out of slumber with a scream that even Aziraphale heard.

 

The waters of the pond parted and the sword flew into his hand. His wings sprung free, not one pair, but his primary set of wings and two more pairs that he'd forgotten about spread out behind him. His eyes glowed with grace long forgotten and the archangel of secrets and knowledge remembered everything.


	2. Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of starting a whole new story in a whole new universe, this chapter is now Aziraphale's prequel. Also, *please go read Good Omens*.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by a quote from Paradise Lost. The relationship to this chapter was that it was supposed to be about Gabriel agreeing that Heaven had become a hell so he left. That is most definitely not what happened.

“The mind is its own place and in itself can make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven. What matter where if I be still the same And what I shall be: all but less than He whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least we shall be free.” Paradise Lost, Lucifer to his brethren in Hell.

* * *

And with the sword in hand, _Aziraphale knew everything_. Only the truth, beyond what lies and mistruths had formed. It did not matter where they had come from, or even if it had been lies he and his siblings had told themselves. What mattered was that there was truth, and even if they could not have collectively recalled these truths, that did not mean that Heaven herself had forgotten them. She had been there, she had seen all, and the memories wrent from their minds couldn't simply disappear from the world. Aziraphale was the archangel of mysteries and knowledge, but his sword was the keeper of all secrets.  Their Creator might have believed the memories he'd taken from them to be gone, but just as everything must be created from something, there is also no destruction of matter. It must become something or something else, whether or not those atoms are scattered is unknown, but these secrets, at least, were in the sword. And Aziraphale saw and remembered everything. This is what happened in the beginning.

* * *

 

Before there was an Earth, there were seven beautiful creatures of beauty and grace. They were the first children of an ambivalent figure who was full of pride for his children, even as he believed them to be flawed and imperfect and far from enough.

 

They didn’t have names, at first. They simply existed. They were intelligent but any happiness they may have felt was far from real because they were misguided.

 

We’ll use the names they were called by later, the names they eventually gave themselves, because it wouldn’t make sense to describe them without something to differentiate them from one another.

 

The eldest was Mikha’el. Mikha’el was Fire. Hot and Fiery, emotional and quick to action, whether that was to anger, or to someone’s defence. He was quick to make Judgement, but doing so was not his responsibility. And he was quick to love. He loved all of his siblings, but the love he bore for Heylel was greatest, perhaps even above their Creator, though he would never have admitted that for fear of offending Him.

 

Heylel and Samael were twins, formed in the same instant and born at the same moment. They were not formed from the same piece of grace and they were not identical. Even still, the two archangels were as similar as they were different.

  
  


Heylel was warm. They were all formed with the heat of Greater Being, so of course they would all be hot. Heylel was Water even as he was he was Light. He was patience, cunning, and passion that was slow, like water carving rocks. 

 

Samael’s conniving took a different form. He was manipulation, seduction, desire. He was the one who encouraged the others to take the last of something, pressured them into thinking that wanting it had been their idea all along. It wasn’t a bad thing, in the beginning, it was just a quirk, a personality trait.

  
  


Aziraphale and Rafa'el were identical twins, formed from the same piece of grace. They were both curious and they desired ever more knowledge. Once there were books, Rafa'el wanted to read every last one of them, while Aziraphale just wanted to hide them all in one place and keep them safe. He was once given a flaming sword, and he learned how to use it well, planning on using his skill with a blade in the defence of his pile of books. No one else really understood, but it wasn’t worth the bruises one would gain if they went about trying to separate him from it.

 

Gavri'el was the sixth archangel. The messenger. He adored the ground his older brothers walked on and followed them relentlessly. Heylel and Samael were the most likely to teach him how to get into mischief and Aziraphale seemed to mind his company the least. But if he was willing to sit quietly, Rafa'el was more than happy to sit quietly with him.

 

Mikha'el loved all his siblings, and Gavri'el was pretty sure he loved them more than their absent-minded Creator did.

 

After the first six archangels were created, the first few ranks of angels were added. The ranks were created slowly, so only one group were fledglings at a time. Mikha'el was given the task of leading them, while the other archangels had more or less full autonomy. 

 

And then there was the youngest archangel. His name was Castiel, and he was created right before one of the last ranks was made and he was still a small fledgling when Earth and humanity were created.

  
  


Earth was created on October 21st, 4004 B.C at 9:15 AM. It was formless and empty and there was water on the surface. He said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. He separated it from the dark and it was beautiful. His six eldest children watched, even as they didn’t understand the implications of what was and would occur. The light was called Day and the dark was called Night and the children who didn’t have names didn’t understand the purpose of these nouns nor the division. 

 

On the second day, He created sky as a barrier from the water on the surface and the moisture of the air.

 

On the third day, He gathered the waters all into one place so that there was dry land on the planet. He named the dry land Earth and the gathering of water he called Seas, and his children continued to lack understanding. Then, he created the first of the vegetation, seed bearing herbs and fruit bearing trees. He gave different seeds to first six children and they helped, spreading the life to anywhere and everywhere. This life was self-sustaining, capable of reproduction.

  
  


On the fourth day, He created the stars and the heavenly bodies. He created first the Sun, the primary source of light, and the Moon, to reflect the light of the sun during the night. These would be used to keep track of the passing of time.

 

On the fifth day, He created all the life in the water and the birds in the sky. All of these species were made to replicate themselves via reproduction. He did not design all the creatures himself, instead allowing the six children, who were all unique, to help as they would.

 

On the sixth day, they created life on the dry land. And then He created man. That’s about the time the shit hit the fan, as the English idiom would say.

* * *

 

**Heylel**

Heylel had many many misgivings about humanity. And their Creator, but mostly about humanity. He could have cared less about the fact that He obviously liked humanity better than his first creations. That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t even that He had named the first human and his mate while leaving the eldest archangels to select names for themselves.

No. There were two problems. The first was that Mikha’el was obviously hiding something important from them about his regular meetings with the Creator. The other was the tree of the forbidden knowledge of good and evil.

He and his siblings were intelligent, but there were so many things they couldn’t vocalize because the language they used was simple. The language spoken between the humans was the same but it almost seemed as if they could get more use out of it. And the creator had told them to name the things in the garden, that doing so was their duty.

Heylel didn’t understand, but the desire to do so burned within him, and he was curious what would happen if he or another of his siblings were to eat from the tree. They had not been forbidden from doing so, and he was not the only one with a burning desire for greater knowledge. If it went successfully, perhaps he could even share it with his siblings.

  
  


So Heylel picked one of the fruits when no one was looking, and devoured it. It was heavenly. The fruit was sweet with a hint of a tang and juice dripped down his chin. He didn’t notice any changes instantly, except he felt that he could perhaps describe the world in slightly greater detail. And he knew,  _ knew, _ that he  _ needed  _ to share this with his siblings.  _ It was important. _ So he picked another fruit and left, cutting it into five even slices and hiding it away on his person. Castiel was far too young to eat this kind of thing, more’s the pity. But he couldn’t very well do something that would  _ hurt  _ the small child.

Heylel flew towards Mikha’el’s quarters. If he remembered correctly, his elder brother should be getting back from a meeting with the Creator right about now. He knocked on the door, practically bouncing on the balls of his toes. As soon as he heard the confirmation he was looking for, he was inside in an instant, and promptly forgot why he was here.

There were precisely two thoughts in Heylel’s brain once he’d laid eyes on Mikha’el. The first, lesser, thought, was that the Creator was likely doing to Mikha’el something he ought to not be doing. Mikha’el was holding his  _ covered  _ arm in a way that suggested he was favoring it and possibly as though he were in pain. Training accidents occured from time to time, especially when it came to Aziraphale and his books, but that wouldn’t be something to be ashamed of, something to  _ hide. _

“Are you okay, Mikha?” he asked. He was focused so much on this thought and the other thought that he forgot to ask himself whether or not he was supposed to be noticing this or trying to remember whether or not this was normal.

Mikha’el shifted uncomfortably and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m fine, Heylel,” he answered tiredly. “Did you need something?”

Any and all thoughts of the fruit were long gone, and Heylel almost didn’t hear the second question, because his focus was more directly on the second thing. The second thought he’d had when he’d walked through the door,  _ was that he  _ loved  _ Mikha’el.  _ He loved all his siblings, and possibly the creator though that was not likely to be a love given freely- How did he know that?- but not with this fiery reserve of passion that was saved specifically for Mikha’el.

  
  


“I love you,” Heylel said, didn’t know what else to say. He stepped towards Mikha’el, uncertain. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mikha’el hesitated, not sure what this was, exactly, except he was certain that this was something beyond what they felt for the rest of their siblings. Something special, just for themselves. Was that the way it was supposed to be?

The eldest archangel did not chase Heylel off as the other sat down beside him on the bed and moved to touch him softly. Mikha’el sighed as Heylel carefully healed each of the injuries he was determined not to talk about.

Heylel didn’t ask, knew that asking would lead to nothing. Mikha thought he was protecting them, would do anything to protect them, even if it was the wrong choice or decision. Nothing would change that, so there was nothing for it. He would just not ask. He wasn’t about to ruin this.

When all the injuries were healed, Heylel reached for Mikha’s wings. “May I?” he asked, wanting to touch, but also not wanting to scare him away. When he got agreement, Heylel started running his fingers through the wings. Mikha’s feathers were a mahogany and they were  _ so soft.  _ He leaned forward, inhaling the scent of sandalwood that was all Mikha’el.

Mikha’el was taller than him, too tall, so he pushed gently on Mikha’el’s chest, directing him to lean back on the bed. There was no resistance as he climbed on top of his-  _ his what? Brother implied a relationship that didn’t exist.  _ Mate. Mate was a good word. It wasn’t by any means official, but if  _ this  _ worked out between them, a mated pair would be an adequate description and he could always do something fancy for Mikha later.

Heylel climbed on top of Mikha’el, tracing the curve of his wings with gentle fingertips drawing spirals on the skin. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing his lips to a warm shoulder.

Mikha’el turned his head towards Heylel and leaned forward to nibble at the top of Heylel’s ear. “And I you. You are so loved, my love. All for me.”

Heylel hugged his brother, folding his wings around them, protecting them from the outside world. The fruit from the forbidden tree didn’t matter. The knowledge didn’t matter. What reprehensible things their Creator was doing to Mikha’el didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he and Mikha’el were here, now, and they had  _ this.  _ That was all that mattered. All that would ever matter.

  
  


But all solace must come to an end. One can only abandon one’s responsibilities for so long, after all. If they’d known what the future would hold, would their actions have changed? Would Mikha’el have woken Heylel before leaving? Have whispered promises he couldn’t keep well within the hearing of his mate? It’s only guesswork, now.

Because the future did happen, and the choices they made, were made. Mikha had responsibilities he could only avoid for so long, so sometime long after Heylel had fallen asleep on his chest, he carefully slid out from under him, fetching a soft, warm, blanket to lay over him. Heylel had always loved warm things. “I love you,” he would whisper to the sleeping form. “I’ll see you when I get back,” he’d say, fully believing the words he was speaking. And then he would leave, little more than a whisper in the wind.

* * *

 

Heylel woke up alone. He didn’t feel abandoned at waking up alone. He felt loved. Mikha’el was busy as the commander of the host and second hand of the Creator. That there had been any time at all for them to be alone was something to be marveled at. Something he would hold close to his heart for a very long time.

He remembered the forbidden fruit and his ideas of sharing it with his siblings. The fruit had to be shared, who was he to deny knowledge and such a wonderful flavor to them?

  
  


Samael was the easiest to find. He was always the easiest to find, but he was Heylel’s twin so that made sense. He and Gavri'el were in the kitchen, staring at a dessert on the table.

“You should try it!” Gavri'el was saying, nodding towards the dessert. Samael was the only other person in the room, so Heylel assumed Gavri'el was talking to Samael.

Heylel smirked. He was pretty sure that Gavri'el was probably trying to prank Samael, using his twin’s own tactics. Probably revenge for some minor slight. Or just for fun, you never knew with Gavri'el.

“Heylel, what’re you up to?”

Heylel shrugged and approached the table. “What’s this?”

“Cake!” Gavri'el exclaimed. He was grinning honestly, but Heylel was convinced that wasn’t the whole story.

Heylel raised an eyebrow and poked a finger into the cake from the edge. And wrinkled his nose as his fingers came in contact with something slimy and wiggly, but he clenched his fingers around it and brought it back out into the open. When he held up his hand for Samael and Gavri'el to see the wiggly thing in his hand. It was red and blue, some kind of worm, but not a real creature.

With a roll of his eyes, the archangel broke the spell on the poor piece of animated candy and stuck it in his mouth. These two siblings of his liked sweets more, but he didn’t mind a piece now and again.

Gavri'el pouted. “Heylel! You spoiled it!”

Heylel grinned apologetically. “Sorry.” He reached for where he’d stashed slices of forbidden fruit and pulled out two slices, one for each of them. “Might I offer you each a slice of fruit in recompense?”

“Sure!” Gavri'el reached quickly for one of two slices.

Samael glanced at the second slice more cautiously. “What is it?”

“It’s something I found in the garden,” Heylel said vaguely. He wasn’t trying to hide anything, so much as he didn’t really want to tell them exactly what it was, because he wasn’t sure what it might mean for them and he didn’t want to have to think about possible consequences. It was good fruit, and that was the part that mattered right now.

Gavri'el stuck the slice he’d taken into his mouth, and instantly started humming in appreciation as juices dripped down his chin. “It’s so good!” he cried. “Sami, you have to try it!”

“Well, if you insist,” Heylel’s twin finally agree, and took the slice of fruit for himself. He ate it with more reserve, and not like Gavri'el, who continued to eat his as though it was the most orgasmic thing he’d ever put in his mouth. _Then again, Gavri'el did that a lot._ _Oral fixation._ “Hmm. Spicy,” he stated after a moment. “Do you have a slice for Aziraphale? I’m sure he’d like it too.”

“I saved a slice for each of you,” Heylel admitted. “I’ll go look for him, and leave the two of you to your cake.”

It was easy for Heylel to find Aziraphale. If nothing else was going on, the most likely place to find him was in his corner of the library. He and Rafa'el shared it, but they’d had to divide it into two because even though Azi was more likely to let Raph read his books than anyone else, it was still hit or miss when he was in an especially stubborn mood,  _ which was most of the time. _

Heylel came bearing gifts, because the best way to get Azi to come out of his hiding spot,  _ it was a good hiding spot  _ was to offer him more books. “Hey, Azi? I brought you a book.”

Azi climbed out from underneath the makeshift nest he’d built in the back of the library, on top of  _ his  _ books. “You did?”

“Yep!” Heylel smiled. “I also brought a treat.” He pulled the book out of the same place he'd stashed the slices of fruit, as well as bringing out one of the slices for Aziraphale.

“Heylel, no messy food in the library!” Aziraphale reached for the fruit rather than the book, taking it from his brother and putting it in his mouth to keep the juices from dripping onto the floor. His eyes widened as he chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “Oh! Heylel, that was marvelous!” He licked his fingers, making sure they were clean before reaching for the book Heylel was still holding out for him.

Heylel chucked as Azi took the book, and then watched fondly as the other archangel retreated to his nest, settling in to read it.

* * *

 

**Samael**

The next day found Samael and Heylel hanging upside down from the Tree of Forbidden Knowledge.

“What do you think would happen to humans if they ate from this tree?” Heylel asked.

“I'm more curious about what would happen to us. Isn't the forbidden knowledge forbidden for a reason?”

“I didn't feel as though anything had changed,” Heylel admitted. “Maybe it has a different effect on mortals. But what reason could the Creator have for keeping knowledge from them?”

“Eden is nice and all, but it's not very big. If their race multiplies, the garden won't be big enough for them.”

“What punishment do you think He'd give them for eating the fruit of knowledge? How hard do you think they'd be to convince?” Heylel wondered aloud.

“It could hardly be a bad punishment. They are his favorite, even over us. It seems unlikely that He could bring himself to punish them  _ that much. _ ”

Heylel nodded. “Let’s find out.”

  
  


The twins left the garden so they could plan their course of action from a more secretive place. Their intention was not devious horror, but morbid curiosity. It was in their nature, after all. They could have chosen actions against their nature, but they did not have the knowledge or experience necessary to make those choices, for they had been kept in ignorance by a Creator who wanted only mindless obedience from them.

“You should turn into a snake,” Heylel suggested. He would live to regret these words for the rest of his very, very  _ long _ life.

“Okay!” Samael was in instantaneous agreement, and moved to do just that. “I’ll see you when I get back!”

They had no way of knowing that the words spoken would not come to fruition, that they would not see each other again for 6000 Earth years. The current year was 4004 B.C.

* * *

 

“Has anyone seen Samael?” Heylel would ask at dinner a few days later.

“Who?” Aziraphale asked, acting as though he’d never heard the word before.

Heylel blinked, studying the table. There were five chairs and a special chair for Castiel, but Heylel couldn’t help thinking that there was supposed to be another chair at the table.  _ Samael.  _ It pinged a sense of loss, and  _ hurt,  _ but he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t place the name, knew that it was supposed to be the most important thing but he couldn’t remember  _ why _ , and now that he was thinking about it, there were plenty of voids where there was clearly something missing, but he couldn’t place it. But asking here would gain no answers, so he let it slide. The others had already moved on to other topics anyway, as though he’d never spoken.

* * *

 

Adam and Eve were exiled from the Garden of Eden, and Aziraphale was keeping watch over the Eastern Gate. That was his task, after all. There was a thunderstorm brewing and he lifted his wings to shield his head. There was a serpent a few feet away. He didn’t know anything about the snake, other than that it was a demon, and that he was pretty sure the demon’s name was Crawly.

The two of them were having a civil conversation, which can be found in Good Omens, because someone somewhere wrote a highly prophetic and accurate work, so there’s no need to recite it here as well. The most important detail, however, is that Crawly remembered that Aziraphale had once had a flaming sword, but the archangel didn’t have it any more because he’d given it to Eve. He claimed to have taken pity on her because she was pregnant.

The second important thing, was what Crawly said right before he left. “Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if you did the bad thing and I did the good one, eh?” Crawly thought he remembered being a demon for awhile, not that he could remember how he’d come to be that way. And Aziraphale thought he could remember Crawly being an angel, but he couldn’t remember that clearly either. But they didn’t speak of that, nor think of it, not really. Crawly had wings, beautiful smoke-black wings, but they didn’t talk about that either.

Later, when Eden had been closed and Aziraphale relieved of his duty, the Creator asked Aziraphale where his sword was, and the archangel shrugged. “Lost,” he said. He was given new order, orders to watch over mankind, so he didn’t leave. He wasn’t given the opportunity to go back to Heaven, to talk to the other archangels. He just did what he was told, hoped Gavri'el wouldn’t get anything sticky on his books.

Knowledge is power. But you have to know that you’re supposed to be looking for something.

* * *

 

They may not have forgotten about Aziraphale, but they didn’t know where he was or what he was up to and they didn’t hear from him. Heylel read everything, nearly went insane trying to figure out what was going on. The name Samael still nagged at him, but no one said anything, and losing Aziraphale was like adding another straw to an already collapsed camel. The number 7 also nagged at him, but now there were only four chairs at the table, plus the chair for Castiel. A toddler who was fussy, and didn’t really understand that tensions were rising, or why.

Mikha'el met with the Creator even more frequently, hid more concerning and various injuries from his siblings, and the others were just worried, didn’t know what to do. Rafa'el seemed to understand what was going on the least, and Gavri'el the most. Heylel wondered if that was what the fruit had done,  _ but he’d long since decided not to share it with Rafa'el or Mikha'el. It felt as though his family had broken  _ because  _ of it. _

Heylel loved Mikha'el. Loved him more than anyone or anything else. Mikha'el often let him the closest to himself, let Heylel soothe injuries he wouldn’t so much as mention to Rafa'el. Heylel said nothing, refused to break the bond he shared with Mikha'el. They were close, and even though the bad was looming over them,  _ this was good. _

The Creator hurting Mikha'el was unacceptable, but Heylel didn't know what to do. Mikha'el was keeping them safe, but Heylel knew he couldn't leave the eldest archangel to protect them all by himself. Who would protect him?

The one thing Heylel wanted more than anything was to ask Mikha’el to mate with him. But with the fear of the Creator looming over all their heads, it felt like the wrong thing to do just now. Mikha’el did so much for them, he felt like he had to do something get on more equal footing.  _ Something big. _

“You can’t!” Mikha’el squawked at him when they were eating dinner. Heylel had just mentioned, in passing, talking to the Creator.

Mikha looked genuinely  _ terrified,  _ and Heylel didn’t like that. Not at all. Such an expression of fear did not belong on the face of the  _ love of his life.  _ Seeing it only made him more resolved about his actions.  _ It was time to end the reign of fear and pain. For good. _

  
  


Sometime after dinner, Heylel heard Gavri'el and Rafa'el around a corner talking, and he couldn’t help eavesdropping.

“Gabby-” Rafa’el’s tone was anxious and sad.

“I have to. I can’t watch this go on, Rafa. It’s going to end badly,  _ I can’t stay.  _ I’m sorry,  _ but no. _ ”

“I…” Whatever Rafa’el might have said was cut off by a sob.

The sounds of footsteps fleeing down the hallway echoed in Heylel’s ears, punctuated by the sounds of Rafa’s broken sobbing. Heylel knew that he  _ should  _ go comfort Rafa’el, but he couldn’t. Not when this was  _ all his fault.  _ But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t  _ reverse this,  _ not if it couldn’t be safe for his younger siblings,  _ and for Michael,  _ if he didn’t continue.

So Heylel also fled, stubborn with the knowledge that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t confront the Creator, the one who was at fault for tearing his family apart.  _ For Samael, for Aziraphale, for Gavri'el. For Mikha. _

* * *

 

Finding the Creator was easy. He was on Earth, though Heylel wasn’t sure why. Heylel found Him watching where Eve’s children,  _ twins,  _ were chasing each other around the field. Heylel could  _ see  _ the expression in His eye, but he couldn't place what it meant. Whatever it was,  _ it was  _ not  _ good. _

“Heylel.” The voice was cold, unpleased, and Heylel couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t here for himself. He was here for his family.

“Why do you hurt Mikha’el?” Heylel asked. “What did he ever do to you?”

“ _ You presume-”  _ The Creator stared at Heylel, first with a hint of surprise, but it quickly shifted to cold fury,  _ wrath. _ “I had wondered. I should have known. Mikha was so much more obedient before you got involved, eating that which you had  _ no right  _ to touch. It was  _ you  _ who led your siblings astray.”

“Why does it matter?! I  _ love _ Mikha! That’s more than you can say!”

“ _ I have heard  _ enough  _ from you.  _ I was  _ mistaken  _ in thinking it was Samael’s influence, when it was  _ yours.  _ You don’t deserve to love, and you most certainly don’t deserve Mikha’s love. But that’s okay. I have this idea about vessels, someday Mikha’el will kill you and that’ll be enough.  _ Begone from here. _ ” There was a snap, and then suddenly Heylel could see nothing, could feel nothing, except the chill of a Cage too small for an infinite celestial wavelength. The pain in his head brought him to his knees, memories ravaged and shifted and rent from his mind.

The archangel could  _ feel  _ his grace, somewhere deep inside him, but he couldn’t touch it, couldn’t call it forth to soothe himself. His thoughts were in disarray, he could barely recall his own name,  _ Heylel,  _ and other names were ever present,  _ Mikha’el, Gavri’el, Rafa’el. _ He did not feel anger, or wrath, only sadness and pain.  _ He didn’t want the world to burn, he wanted to be forgiven, to be capable of being loved. _

He wrapped his wings around himself and curling into a ball as small as he could manage,  _ he wept _ .

* * *

 

Mikha'el and Rafa'el stood at the edge of Heaven. Mikha'el at least looked somewhat mournful.   
  
"Are you done?" the younger asked. He looked stoic, but it was a mask, given that his tone was anguished.   
  
Mikha'el glanced at his brother. "Done with what?" he asked, confused.   
  
"Your actions have ravaged Heaven. Dad has done who knows what to Heylel and Aziraphale, Samael is dead over what, a  _ question _ ? Gavri'el is  _ gone, _ vanished to who knows where because he couldn't  _ stand _ us anymore and I can't blame him. And Castiel-- He couldn't stop crying. He wouldn't eat, or sleep. If Naomi hadn't wiped those last events from his mind, he would have faded into nothing." Rafa'el closed his eyes, almost trembling but he didn't move, denying himself that little comfort. "We gave him to Anael to look after." He shook his head. "I'll never forgive you for driving everyone away."

Mikha’el hunched in on himself. “I… I don’t  _ know  _ what happened.”

“Heylel confronted Dad.  _ Why? _ ”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikha’el whispered, shame creaming into his voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it matter that what’s going on between you and Dad is the reason more than half the archangels are  _ gone? _ ”

“It does matter,” Michael repeated. “I don’t know if I can fix it, but I’ll try. Promise.”

  
  


**Aziraphale**

A few human years later

There was a knock on the door, so Aziraphale opened the door, wondering who it could be. “Gabriel?”

“Shhh!”

With a raised eyebrow, Aziraphale stepped aside to allow his brother in and then closed the door behind him. “Okay…. Why are you here?”

“Heaven’s gone crazy!” Gabriel cried. “Heylel- Heylel’s gone! And Bad Things are happening to Mikha!”

Aziraphale reached to wrap his arms around his little brother and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Little Brother.”

“Can you, can you help me hide from Heaven? I, I don’t want them to find me.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

So the elder of the two archangels helped the younger perform some ritual magic, hiding him as the pagan deity, Loki. No one would be able to tell by looking at him that he was anything other than a Trickster, and it would probably get Heaven off his back, if anyone tried to look for him.  _ Especially the Creator. _ But they didn’t talk about it. And then Aziraphale let Gabriel leave. He didn’t ask where his brother was headed, and Gabriel didn’t volunteer that information. It was safer that way.

* * *

 

Sometime after that, the Creator showed up.

“Where is Gabriel?” he asked, but more or less, (mainly more), demanding the information.

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale honestly didn’t know, but he decided that even if he did know, he wouldn’t tell the Creator. The Creator had done  _ something  _ to Mikha’el and Heylel, what was stopping him from doing something to  _ Gabriel _ ?

“You would lie to me?!” The Creator reached out and then, was gone.

When Aziraphale came too, he had a terrible headache, liked he’d gotten himself  _ really plastered  _ and the last thing he couldn’t quite remember what was had happened for more than a week past. Just that he had orders from Heaven to keep doing Good Things and fighting Evil. Just keep doing more of the same.

The next day, he found a rare book on his doorstep with a vague note he couldn’t quite decipher. Aziraphale couldn’t determine who it was from or who it was for, but he kept it, just in case the person it was for made themself known. But they never did.

 


	3. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we're not to the real Destiel and Sabriel yet, but we're getting there, I promise. We're taking the scenic route. And a detour. Or two. The minor destiel present was written by Thallen.
> 
> You should also definitely go read Tears of Paradise if you haven't yet, Hyrule is amazing and it's canon now.

Raphael's scream reverberated through the family nest. Michael and Lucifer had been lying in companionable silence and Gabriel had been encouraging the fledgling into telling them when Raphael had molted last. The answer had been “Like clocks,” but that only meant so much to the creatures who had been out of the loop for thousands of years.

 

Gabriel wrapped himself around the fledgling, using his own grace to block the child from the outside world. Sami did not need to listen to his parental figure's cries, especially not when the rest of them had no idea what was wrong.

 

Michael moved instantaneously, approaching the writhing archangel. Raphael had clearly awoken, if his open eyes were anything to go by. They glowed with grace, suggesting that this was the result of something else happening.

 

“Rafa,” Michael soothed. “Can you hear me?”

 

Raphael did not scream again, but he whimpered in distress and rocked back and forth. It almost sounded as though he had whispered, “Azi,” but Michael wasn’t sure if that was the mumbled word.

 

Michael kneeled beside Raphael. “Do you know where you are?”

 

Again, Raphael didn’t respond. Michael looked over his shoulder at Lucifer, unsure what he should do. Raphael’s grace was almost palpable and with it this close to the surface, touching the other archangel was not one of the safer things to do. It probably wouldn’t do him any permanent damage, but if Raphael came to his senses to discover that his grace had hurt one of his siblings, he would feel unnecessarily upset about it. So it would just be better not to allow it to reach that point.

 

Lucifer crawled forward. “Rafa?” He didn’t expect an answer, not with his lack of recognition so far. But the only thing he could think was that if they talked quietly to their younger brother, eventually he would come back to himself. Maybe he wouldn’t even panic further. “Mikha, why are you staring at me? I don’t know what’s wrong any more than you do.”

 

Gabriel swallowed audibly. When Michael and Lucifer glanced his way, a slight tremor wracked his body. “I… I might know what happened, but not how to fix it.” He curled in on himself. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.

 

Michael and Lucifer shared a look, almost as though conversing silently and quickly. Lucifer headed towards Gabriel and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s probably not  _ all  _ your fault.” Michael glared, but it wasn’t harsh, Michael was incapable of anything other than soft looks when it came to Lucifer. Lucifer sighed. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”

 

“Aziraphale’s still on Earth,” Gabriel said, quietly. “I don’t know what you guys think happened, but he was on Earth when I ran away. He helped me take on the Trickster persona so that I couldn’t be found or tracked, and well, I’ve sent him various gifts from time to time since then.” Gabriel waited a moment, but neither Lucifer nor Michael interrupted him so he continued. “I didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address, sot I’ve never heard anything back. I know he gets them, but I don’t even know if he knows they’re from me. But anyway, he gave his sword to Eve in the garden, and I’ve known where it was for like, forever, but he’s never taken it back, maybe Azi doesn’t even remember where it ended up, so I sent him a book. One that might reveal it’s location to him. I just thought… just thought that if he went and got his sword, he’d come home.” Gabriel sniffled. “With you two not fighting and no apocalypse planned for the near future, I just thought that maybe, that maybe we could bring Azi…. Azi and Samael and… and Castiel, home.”

 

Lucifer wrapped an arm around Gabriel while he thought about what to say. The memories of Samael had never come back as clearly as he knew they would have once been, and he’d never been able to ask what the others remembered of Samael. He could barely remember that the other archangel was his twin, and he knew,  _ knew,  _ that there should have been more emotion there. But there wasn’t. It was just gone, a hole in his mind that as far as he knew couldn’t be fixed.  _ Azi would know more, knowledge had always been the greatest of his powers. _ Or Raphael, even, but Azi was who knows where and Raphael was catatonic.

 

“Oh, Raph,” Michael whispered. “This is what you wanted the whole time…”

 

Tears leaked from Raphael’s eyes as they returned to their normal coloring. 

 

“It’s okay, Rafa,” Michael soothed. “It’ll all be okay.”

 

“No.” Raphael’s voice was hoarse, scratchy. “No,  _ it won’t be. _ ”

 

“Why not?” Lucifer asked. “It sounds to me like there’s already been vast improvement.”

 

“I lost Azi’s sword!” Raphael howled. “I warded it and now someone’s gone and moved it and that shouldn’t have been possible!” More tears, this time likely of frustration, slid down his face. “I wanted to bring it back here, but I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t move it.”

 

Michael wrapped his arms around his little brother. “Rafa, Gabriel thinks Aziraphale retrieved his sword. It is his, after all, and Gabriel has it on good authority that Azi’s been on Earth all this time, that he’s still on Earth, even.”

 

“Re-really?” Raphael blinked owlishly. “Can he come home?”

 

“Of course. Why shouldn’t he? Well, as long as he wants to come home. We can’t very well force him into something he’d detest us for. That just wouldn’t be fair.”

 

“Gabriel didn’t want to come home, and he’s here now,” Raphael reminded him.

 

“Gabriel, have we kept you here against your will?” Michael asked.

 

“Nope!” Gabriel tried to grin, but it was more of a sad smile. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here,” he said finally. “Besides! You guys aren’t half bad when you’re not fighting.” He unwrapped his wings from around the fledgling.

 

Samandriel stamped his feet. “No wings! No! Not napping time!” He stomped across the room towards Raphael. “Rafa! Not napping time! Mean Gabby!”

 

Raphael held his arms out towards the fledgling who proceeded to crawl into his lap. “Okay, Sami. No naptime, yet.”

 

“No nap time, ever!” the fledgling exclaimed.

 

Under other circumstances, Raphael might have grinned, but he didn’t have the energy to do much more than rub the child’s shoulder in an effort to remind himself that he’d lost nothing more than he’d already lost. “I’m not sure I can promise that. You’d get so tired and grumpy if you never slept.”

 

“Not true!” Sami argued.

 

“Sure.” Raphael didn’t really want to argue with the fledgling. There was no point to doing so. It wouldn’t prove anything and Sami would fight the assessment about being tired even as he was fighting sleep.

 

Gabriel watched them. “I could go,” he said quietly. “I could see if Azi wants to come home.”

 

“Mikha can’t go,” Raphael said when Michael opened his mouth to say just that. When the eldest archangel looked ready to argue the point, he added, “Your wing isn’t up for that kind of flight yet. I… I’m just not sure I can heal it again if you break it a third time.  _ Please stay. _ ”

 

“Aright,” Michael agreed, albeit unhappily. “But should someone go with Gabriel?”

 

“It wouldn’t do to surround him,” Lucifer said. “And my presence might scare him, if he’s fallen for the Apocalypse trite.” He considered. “Do we have any idea what happened to Samael?”

 

The other three all shook their heads. “I thought he was also gone,” Raphael said. “But now I’m not so sure.”

 

Samandriel fisted at Raphael’s shirt. “Rafa no leave!”

 

Raphael smiled at the fledgling. “Okay,” he agreed. As much as he wanted to see Azi again, he was just so tired and maybe there’d be time for a nap before they returned.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” Gabriel said, and left.

 

Raphael shifted, rubbing the fledgling’s back absentmindedly. His wings itched and he was  _ so  _ tired, and he didn’t really want Gabriel to leave, even though he knew it was necessary. That he was doing it for him.

 

Since Michael was still right next to Raphael, he reached for a wing, running a warm and gentle hand along his spine and along the wing shoulders. His wings were colder than they should have been, and Michael could feel how dry and chafed his skin was under the feathers.

 

Raphael shifted again, a little in agitation, a little because Michael’s hands were warm and his sore wings appreciated the almost massage.

 

“Why aren’t you molting?” Michael asked. He could tell by touching Raphael’s wings that he was overdue a molt. Feathers weren’t falling out like they had started in Lucifer’s wings, but when he gently pulled on a feather he  _ knew  _ should have come out, it wouldn’t, as though Raphael’s grace was actively fighting the molt.

 

“Can’t molt.” Raphael whimpered when he felt Michael tugging on one of his sensitive feathers. It felt like Michael was trying to tear part of him away, even though the outvoted part of his brain was screaming that this was normal and that it was supposed to fall out. But he couldn’t let go of it. It would leave him unprotected.  _ It’s one feather.  _ It would leave him diffenceless, and Michael and Lucifer and Gabriel all needed their molts more. They couldn’t all molt at once,  _ it wasn’t safe.  _ So he’d wait. And even though he’d always molted once a year, like clockwork, he’d not had one since the first seal had broken. There’d been so much to do, and no time. He’d had to make sure Lucifer would get out the cage, and not destroy the world, because he’d just wanted his family whole.  _ Having his family whole was more important than his own comfort. Not when every molt was a delay and weakness he hadn’t been able to afford because every second mattered. _

 

Michael tried tugging on a different damaged feather, but it also wouldn’t come free. As he looked, he found that there were an unusually high number of damaged feather for someone who supposedly molted “like clocks”. “Rafa, when did you last molt?”

 

Raphael choked back something that sound suspiciously like a half sob. “First seal,” he mumbled, quietly. More recently than any of his siblings, but it still felt like so long ago. And by heaven time, it had been. Almost twenty months had passed on Earth since the Righteous Man had broken the first seal, and time on Heaven passed the same as it did in Hell. So many years to free Heylel and nothing else had mattered.

 

“You're safe,” Michael said. “It's okay.” Instead of trying to pull in any of Raphael's feathers, he groomed at them instead, straightening what he could but mostly just reassuring Raphael with gentle touches that he wasn't going anywhere.

 

Lucifer approached from the other side and laid down next to Raphael and in a position where he could reach his brother's other wing. “You should have taken better care of yourself,” he scolded. “You can't run on fumes.”

 

Raphael wasn't sure why he was almost crying again. He was an angel, he shouldn't have needed to cry. But with his older brothers on each side of him platonically looking after his mangled feathers, he couldn't help but curl towards the fledgling.

 

“You need to let go,” Michael whispered. “These feathers aren't healthy, they need to regrow.” He carded one hand through the feathers and the other up Raphael's back and into his hair.

 

Raphael didn't want to, didn't want to risk losing everything over a few feathers, but with the comforting touches his brothers were giving him, he didn't have the energy to fight the molt. And finally, as Michael kept petting Raphael's wing, the first feather finally fell.

* * *

 

Castiel had been helping his human (well humans, Sam too. But Gabriel's claim to the taller hunter was stronger.), with a hunt. Something normal, as far as hunting the supernatural went, when he felt the urge to return to Heaven descend upon him, suddenly and strong. There wasn't a direct order given, and it didn't feel like a reprimand. In his mind's eye, he could see a doorway in Heaven and his grace was pushing him, telling him he needed to guard it.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean asked, hesitantly, his voice cautious and almost timid. Almost. He knew his Dean could face down the fiercest of opponents with only his volatile gaze and his quick wit, but with softer matters, matters of the mind, matters of the heart, he was more cautious and halting. Traversing territory that he had seldom crossed before, and that Cas himself was inexperienced with. They were both “playing it by the ear”, so to speak. But something else had a hold on him now. Dean had stopped, turning back to glance over his shoulder when he realized the angel was no longer following.

“I need to return to Heaven,” he stated after a moment. “But I will return as soon as I can.” He would not leave Dean without an explanation. Or Sam, Sam of course too. 

He hesitated a moment longer. Until Dean opened his mouth to argue, to ask, before he took flight. He didn't have time for irrelevant arguments. He had a job to do. 

Castiel made his way slowly through heaven. There didn't seem to be a lot of angels around, but he chose to make his way towards the door in the way that would bring the least amount of attention to himself.

  
Heading for the door led him to a wing of a building he'd never been inside before. The door was shut, and he had no idea what was inside and he found that it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to stand there and  _ protect _ it. So he did.

* * *

 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale. He’d known the angel for 6000 years and he hadn’t remembered anything about  _ three  _ pairs of white wings. His angel looked like wrath incarnate, sword drawn and held aloft and wings spread as though he were about to charge an entire legion on a path of vengeance, except the angel didn’t look angry. “Aziraphale? You’re not going to,  _ smite _ , me. Are you?”

The  _ apparent  _ archangel blinked. “No,  _ Samael,  _ why would I smite you? That would go against the Arrangement, wouldn’t it?”

“But, well, yes, but, Angel, you’re an  _ archangel.” _

“So are you. What’s your point?”

The demon tilted his head in confusion. “What are you talking about? Have you gone daft? I think we’d know if I was a fallen archangel. That title only belongs to Lucifer,  _ and you know that. _ ”

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m not sure Heylel would technically be considered a fallen angel. I mean, he was cast out of Heaven, but he didn’t choose to fall. And he was only put in the cage because he was confronting God for hurting Mikha.”

“How do you know that?” Crowley hissed. “Are you sure you’re not just daft in the head?”

“I just do.” Aziraphale considered the demon for a moment, and then he smiled as he came up with the answer. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “I think I know how to make you remember.”

“I do trust you,” Crowley said. “But why would I want to remember? I’m sure there’s some logical reason I  _ don’t  _ remember.”

“No one else remembers, at least nothing more than bits and pieces,” Aziraphale replied. “But I  _ am  _ the archangel of secrets, mysteries, and knowledge.”

“Alright, go ahead,” Crowley said. “But when this ends badly, I am holding you responsible.” 

The sword and the wings vanished, probably back into the other plane where they belonged, and then the angel hugged the demon. Crowley didn’t know what he was expecting, but even though he’d definitely gotten  _ closer _ to the angel after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t, it still frequently surprised him that the angel would  _ sully himself  _ by touching him. Maybe it was because his angel was now an archangel that their Arrangement made him feel even more guilty than he usually felt about it.

A moment later, Crowley _saw_ what Aziraphale had remembered, and he remembered too. _Samael._ _He was Samael, and he had fallen because he’d been as curious as his twin._ In his surprise, he forgot to maintain his human shape. _Fucking Manchester._

Aziraphale blinked down at the snake with three pairs of wings who was hissing dramatically from the ground. “Crowley, really! There’s no need to be so dramatic! It seems to have all been a misunderstanding, and if Heylel gets to leave the cage, maybe our exile can end too.”

Crowley hissed again in annoyance. He hated this form. By Manchester, he hated this form. And now that he could remember  _ why  _ he had this form, how he’d ended up stuck in it, he hated it even more. Regardless of what the Creator might have told Heylel, Crowley didn’t blame him for what had happened. No. The fault rested on the shoulders of the Creator.

There was a flash of light behind Aziraphale and the serpent couldn’t help but curl himself as tightly as he could, terrified that the world was about to end. They hadn’t ever been supposed to remember, and now they did,  _ what would heaven do to them? _

Aziraphale turned around, standing between the new appearance and  _ his demon.  _ He didn’t draw his sword yet, but he had never been quick to engage unless the danger was imminent. When the light finally dimmed, he stared. “Loki?!”

Gabriel grinned. “So you do remember me! I’d wondered!”

“Not for more than a few minutes,” Aziraphale admitted. “What brings you by?”

Crowley hissed worredly.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder. “Samael! Knock it off!”

The messenger’s eyes widened. “You found Samael?”

“Not exactly. We’ve known for about a few minutes that he is Samael, but we’ve both been on Earth since Adam and Even left the Garden.” Aziraphale considered the other archangel. “What’s new?”

Gabriel smiled. “Rafa’el talked Lucifer down and convinced me to go back to Heaven. It’s been… good.” He seemed to anticipate that if he didn’t clarify, Aziraphale would have repeated his question again. “Raph felt when you reclaimed the sword and freaked out. He genuinely thought you were dead. They want you, both of you, to come back to Heaven.”

There was another hiss from Crowley. There was a skeptical air to this one. 

The messenger looked around Aziraphale. “Yes,  _ Crowley _ , you as well. No, I don’t know why you’re a serpent but I do agree you’d probably be happier in your human form.” He listened to the next hiss. “No, I  _ don’t  _ know how to turn you back.”

Even more hissing.

“Well, it’s possible that returning to heaven would change you back into your true form. But we wouldn't turn you away regardless. Yes, Samael, Heylel and the others do want you to come home.”

Crowley didn't hiss at them. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that.  _ He was wanted. _ Even after everything, they still wanted to welcome him home.  _ Not a slimy serpent.  _ He was Samael, Crowley,. Heylel's twin. He was an archangel, Manchester, not an archserpent.

It took him a moment of fierce concentration to return to his more human like shape, but he pulled it off.

“Well then, are you both ready to go home?”

“What about my books?” Aziraphale asked, looking affronted.

Crowley glared at Aziraphale. “Angel, I'm sure we can come back for your books.”

“But-”

“Rafa'el's been delaying his molt trying to bring us all back to Heaven,” Gabriel said. “He was most distraught when his wards went off because your sword had moved.”

Aziraphale looked apologetic. “Alright, I see your point. We can get the books later, let's go see our brothers.”

* * *

 

Gabriel led the way to the family room in Heaven, Aziraphale and Crowley right on his heels. When they came to the door, they found an angel standing in front of it.

“Brother,” Castiel said, specifically addressing Gabriel. He was a little confused because Gabriel had made it clear that he had wanted nothing to do with Heaven, but it must have had something to do with why there'd been the signature of all four archangels in the hotel. Whatever it was, Gabriel looked genuinely happy.

He did not move aside from the door, and he didn't recognize the two angels behind Gabriel.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at the angel in the doorway until their eyes widened in remembrance. “Gabriel,” Aziraphale cooed, “he's grown up so well! He's beautiful!”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. How did they know him? He had no idea who they were. “What?” he asked.

“Don't mind them,” Gabriel said. “But we do need inside this room.”

Castiel didn't resist as Gabriel and the two angels following him stepped by him to enter the room he was guarding. He knew they belonged inside, even though he didn't know what was significant about it yet.

The young angel was not prepared for the angel who had not spoke to reach out and foist him into the room. “What?” he squawked, futiling pulling against his grip as he was drug inside and the door shoved closed behind them.

Whatever Castiel had been anticipating, it had not been this. There were feathers everywhere, and three archangels, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael had all sequestered themselves into a pile on the floor. And was that a fledgling the third archangel was holding onto? Why was there a fledgling? He had been in the last group of angels made and  _ he  _ wasn’t still a fledgling.

Raphael, Michael, and Lucifer all glanced in the direction of the door, and Raphael’s eyes widened at the sight. But rather than proclaiming at the sight of Aziraphale, as the eldest two archangels were anticipating, he instead exclaimed, “Cassie!”

The healer let go of the fledgling he’d been wrapped around and moved his arms as though stretching them out to Castiel, but wavering as though if he were to try to touch the out-of-reach angel, he would disappear, or worse yet turn into dust and fall through his fingers like water through a sieve.

The angel the three molting archangels had not seen yet pushed Castiel towards Raphael, causing him to flail as he lost his balance. Castiel wouldn’t have fallen, but he was close enough for Raphael to touch him and pull the younger angel under his wings and next to the fledgling.

  
Castiel struggled, more out of confusion than anything else, and the thoughts running through his head were along the lines of “ _Why is the archangel that killed me acting like this?_ ”


	4. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reveals what really happened at the end of season 4. (Hint, Raphael did not kill Castiel.)
> 
> And Chuck continues being his very evil self. Nothing new here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this is not the ending. The titles are relevant for semantic reasons.

Castiel didn't realize that he had accidentally tuned into the archangel radio in his panic, and that the six archangels in the room had all heard his query.

 

Raphael's grip on the angel tightened. “Didn't hurt you,” he mumbled. “Wouldn't hurt you.” He leaned towards Castiel's neck, trying to get closer him. He was crying again, first because he'd never imagined he could get his Cassie back and second because it felt like he was going to lose him all over again over an imagined slight. “I couldn't hurt you,” he whispered, approaching sobs. “Never ever.”

 

Aziraphale blinked. “That's not possible.” He blinked again. “I don't remember the universe ceasing to exist. We would  _ know _ if an archangel had died, we wouldn't be here any more.”

 

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. “What do you mean, Angel? How could you possibly know that?”

 

The latter rolled his eyes. “The amount of power an archangel holds is immeasurable. Were one of us to actually kick the bucket, as they say, all that energy and power would be released. And it would certainly destroy the universe in the process.”

 

“And the ineffable plan?”

 

“Would not allow for such an occurrence. Hence, Raphael can't have killed Castiel. Although I don't think Rafa could have in the first place. He has to uphold the oath to do no harm.” He nodded to himself. “Whatever Cassie thinks he remembers, it's not what really happened.”

 

Gabriel stared at Raphael and Castiel, trying and failing to understand what he'd missed. Raphael had been clearly so excited to have his siblings come back, so it seemed unlikely Raphael could have actually killed somebody. The healer was bound by something like the Hippocratic Oath, but even beyond that, Rafa'el had always been the calmest and most rational of the archangels.  _ Except when he molted.  _ Which explained why he was crying again, but not what Castiel thought had occurred. Though from what he could hear Azi saying, they were all more immortal than they'd ever thought they were.

 

Michael had no idea what to do. If Raphael had decided to snuggle Castiel like a fledgling, there would be no dissuading him before the molt was over. They all had different nesting instincts when it came time to molt, but the desire to keep fledglings close was pretty common. Castiel was no longer a fledgling, but Raphael has given him to Anael thousands of year before, so his grace was probably confused. If Michael made the attempt to free Castiel, the chance of Raphael seeing it as a threat was high and he didn't want to deal with that either, because if Raphael was  _ that  _ out of his mind from the molt, they were all better off staying as they were.

 

The thing was though, Michael was sure that whatever Castiel was afraid of was the result of a misunderstanding. And Raphael's keening also made it sound as though he knew what had happened, at least to an extent and he wasn't  _ lying  _ which also meant Raph didn't currently think himself guilty of something he wasn't completely responsible for.

 

Michael noticed then that Lucifer was staring silently at Samael. It seemed incredibly lucky that Gabriel had been able to bring back both Aziraphale and Samael, but as joyous as their return to Heaven was, Castiel was the more pressing matter. “Go greet your twin,” he mumbled anyway, because he knew that no matter what, his mate had never stopped perceiving Samael's absence as his own fault. That guilt laid only at the feet of the Creator, but it was not possible to tell if Heylel understood that yet.

 

Lucifer stood and walked sedately towards Samael. It reminded Michael that it would be a long time before Lucifer accepted that he could have what he wanted because the cage had not been kind. 

 

Samael initiated the hug with Lucifer because he did not have the patience to deal with his twin's wallowing. He was not going to disappear. None of them were.

 

But it was more than that, Michael realized. They all feared to some extent that the others would disappear. The Creator had shown with ease that he could separate them and wipe their memories and do whatever he wanted to them.

 

Except kill them. The others were paying varying degrees of attention to Aziraphale and Samael, but it was not possible for the eldest to actively ignore any of the younger archangels. Especially not during a molt, when carelessness could lead to someone getting hurt. So he heard Aziraphale's words. The hoarder of books might have been expressing the facts in relation to what Castiel had claimed, that Raphael had killed him, but Michael saw it in a bigger picture.

 

The Creator could not kill any one of them, not without destroying the entire universe (and theoretically himself) in the process, which gave them the upper hand should he return and attempt to subjugate them again.

 

It might have seemed like an extreme measure, but Michael knew that as unlikely as It was that the Creator would return to torment them, it was not out if the realm of possibility and they had to be prepared, or at least vigilant enough that his appearance would not be a surprise. He had tried to demand that one should kill the other, after all.

 

Castiel whined, still struggling to escape the Healer's grasp. The fledgling had shifted and was nuzzling his side, as was the archangel, and he did not understand why. 

 

Michael's attention was drawn back to the youngest archangel. One problem at a time or nothing would be solved. Had that not been why Raphael had drugged him? There was no reason for hysteria. Castiel believed a mistruth and it was past time to rectify the most recent one, if not all of them.

 

“Aziraphale, you're the archangel of truth, are you not?” Rather than glancing in the direction of said archangel, Michael watched to see if his words would draw Castiel's curiosity. This was successful as the angel did stop struggling as he glanced from Michael to the archangels behind Gabriel.

 

“Secrets and mysteries, more like. But I'm sure I can find a hidden truth.” He walked towards them while studying Castiel. “You didn't  _ die,  _ least of all at Raphael's hand. So what really happened?”

 

“But I  _ remember _ ,” Castiel argued.

 

“Must be memory tampering. Happened to the lot of us, so no surprises there. Let's see if I can fix it.” He eased himself onto the floor in front of Raphael and put a hand on Castiel's forehead. “Hmm. Interesting.” A moment later there was a flash of light.

 

When the light faded, Castiel stared at Aziraphale. He wanted to glare, but now that he could remember what had happened that day at the Prophet's house, he wasn't sure how to react.  _ It was bad. It had been so bad. _ He leaned back against Raphael, who was still rambling about how he couldn't have done what Castiel had accused him of, and the angel felt guilt because he knew that now.

 

It was so much worse than that, because  _ God Himself  _ had stuffed him in a pocket realm for a day or two and tampered with his memories of the event.  _ Chuck Shurley was not on the list of prophets, but had managed to convince certain angels and archangels that he was to suit his needs. To make a game of them. And Castiel had confronted him because he'd figured it out, eventually. But not fast enough, and he had not acted in a way that would have allowed him to warn his siblings. How naive he'd been. _

 

He couldn't keep tears at bay. He'd been used as nothing more than a pawn to a Creator who had held no feelings for his creations, and who has sought the destruction of his firstborn children. No wonder Raphael had suggested Lucifer could have revived him, he had hoped that if they'd held Lucifer in a sympathetic light, they might have reached this outcome here. But at the same time he would not have understood completely what had happened.

 

Raphael's grip on Castiel tightened and he shifted, trying to hug the quivering form. He was aware that Castiel was no longer struggling and was suffering emotionally from something else, but he did not have the capacity to keep track of the nuance of what was going on in the room right then, still wrapped up in the fact that his Cassie was here and had thought he had  _ murdered  _ him of all things (but didn't still, though Raphael's brain hadn't quite caught up to that yet).

 

“It's okay, little brother,” Aziraphale soothed, leaning forward to brush a comforting hand along Castiel's face. “We've got you.”

 

Lucifer pulled away from Samael and went back to Michael and laid down next to him. Samael followed, but he laid down touching Aziraphale.

 

Gabriel watched, goofy grin on his face.  _ This. This  _ was what he'd been missing for the 6000 years since the Creator had split their family into pieces. They were finally all home and from the looks of things, there’d be no more fighting. At long last then, he could finally have this.

 

“Gavri’el,” Michael called from where he was lying. “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to  _ come here _ .”

 

“I’m coming,” the messenger promised. “I just… need a second.” There was no way he was going to forget this. Never, ever, not for anything. The world could have ended and this scene was still going to be ingrained in his grace because he wouldn’t allow for it to not be. They’d lost and suffered enough already.

 

“ _ Come here, _ ” the eldest archangel repeated. Gabriel was still grinning stupidly, but even Michael remembered the Gabriel was the best at hiding behind facades of mischief and pretending to be fine. He might have been fine, still, but he was also likely two seconds thoughts drifting to less pleasant things and Michael didn’t want three bawling archangels on his hands because two was enough.

 

Gabriel shuffled around the room until he was on the far side of Michael and then he let Michael pull him into a hug, chasing his arising concerns away. This was the most pressing moment, everything could come later, once they’d molted and were more emotionally stable. What would come, would, and they didn’t need to stress over it  _ right now. _

 

As they laid there in quiet companionship, they reached a relaxed state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Raphael was the closest to actual sleep because being so emotional during his molt was exhausting.

 

The others were in varying degrees of wakefulness. Despite also being close to a molt, Michael was the most awake. Only a lunatic would have considered attacking a room with seven archangels in it, but having someone alert in case anything changed was not stupid. Ingrained in each of the archangels was a need to protect the others as they molted, hence Castiel's presence outside even when he had not understood why.

 

Lucifer was close to sleep. He was surrounded by Michael's and Raphael's warmth and it was soothing. His twin and the other missing archangels had returned and this was as close to perfect as he'd ever thought he would get, especially after everything.

* * *

 

Michael felt the tremor in Lucifer’s grace before the others. Michael had felt when Lucifer had fallen into slumber, had been listening to the sounds of his mate and his siblings breathing even as he drifted through his relaxed state. Feeling Lucifer’s terror, the eldest archangel sat up, already trying to figure out what was going on. But as he looked at his mate, he  _ knew.  _ Lucifer was shaking, sweating, and they could all feel as the archangel’s grace curled away from them, reeking of pain and  _ hurt _ .

Nightmare. But why now? Michael wondered. After everything they’d been through, nightmares wouldn’t have been a surprise if they were human, but they weren’t. They were archangels and they didn’t even need sleep, just sometimes it was nice to take a  _ peaceful  _ and  _ relaxing  _ break.

Which meant his Heylel shouldn’t have been having a nightmare, and the fact that he was meant something was  _ wrong. _ He sat up, wrenching himself from the relaxed state so that he could figure out what the hell was going on.

Michael’s actions, along with the terrified state of Lucifer’s grace, also stirred the other archangels into investigating (and awakening, in the case of Raphael and Castiel). “What’s going on?” Raphael asked first. Even in his wrought mental state, he still knew that whatever it was, it was bad. While he managed to keep most of his fear out of his voice, the archangels in the room were the people who knew him the best, and were for the most part, already well aware at how good Raphael was at wearing a facade of calm. As a healer, such a mask was necessary when it came to keeping patients from freaking out and injuring themselves further, no matter how minor or severe the injury to begin with. There were reasons it was  _ Raphael  _ who was the main healer, besides just being the archangel of healing.

Aziraphale reached for his twin, putting a hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Rafa,” he said quietly. “We’ve got everything under control.” Which may or may not have been correct, but the archangel of secrets had also seen the fledgling Raphael was still holding, and knew that it was more important for Raphael to keep the fledgling from finding out that anything was wrong than for the healer to investigate what was going on with Lucifer.

Michael reached for Lucifer’s shoulder. “Heylel,” he said quietly. “Heylel, wake up.”

The second eldest archangel didn’t so much as stir in his sleep, besides trembling from the terrors in his mind. He showed no sign of feeling Michael’s attempts at waking him.

“Heylel,” Michael repeated, “Heylel, it’s just a nightmare.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” Crowley stated. They glanced at him. “Yes, it’s obvious, but I mean, there’s something clearly wrong here.”

“So what do we do about it?” Gabriel asked. “Let Heylel wake up on his own?”

“Isn’t there something we can do? We can’t just leave him captive to the terrors within his own mind.”

Aziraphale tilted his head. “No, no, mustn’t do that either.” He reached forward, putting his hand on Lucifer’s other shoulder from the one Michael was still clutching. He closed his eyes, and they could all feel as he pushed his grace until it was touching Lucifer’s.

Aziraphale pulled back abruptly, eyes flaring an angry blue. “Fuck,” he growled, then repeated the curse in Enochian.

Crowley, who knew Aziraphale the best, and Raphael, who was not used to hearing course language, especially not from the other archangels, looked at Aziraphale in shock.

“Azi,” Michael said. “What is it?”

“Can't you feel that Grace?”

Rather than take the closer look at Lucifer's grace, Michael reached for Aziraphale's arm. The younger archangel trembled, and Michael knew that the anger was only masking the fear.

Gabriel leaned against Michael. “Why is He doing this?” The second youngest of the archangels could feel the ancient grace prodding at the Lightbringer, now that he was looking for it.

“To divide us.” Crowley reached out to touch Aziraphale. “We can't let him.”

“We won't,” Michael promised. The eldest shifted, pushing his weight against Lucifer. “Whatever He is trying to pull, it won't work. Heylel belongs here and he is loved. You are all loved.”

The other archangels shifted until Lucifer and Raphael were in the middle of them, surrounded by their protective forms and wrapped in warmth.

It took awhile, but eventually the invasive and unwanted grace of a Creator they were all afraid of finally diminished, finally allowing Heylel to escape from the nightmares. He woke sobbing, curling into Michael’s side, reaching for his mate’s arms and tightening his grip around them as though afraid that any second, Michael would disappear forever.

Michael ran his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, stroking his head and back in a soothing and repetitive motion. “Shhh,” he mumbled, even as their siblings added their limbs and grace to the protective embrace. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re all here and we’re all fine, breathe, Heylel.”

Lucifer took a shuddering breath. “He made me dream that we were fighting, you hated me. He told you to fight me, and you did, an obedient husk of a golem.” His body wracked with sobs. “He made you kill my baby. I didn’t want to fight, I just wanted to die. But it’s never that easy.”

“Shhh,” Michael repeated. “I love you, Heylel, it’s okay.” He continued to rub his mate’s back. “We don’t have a baby,” he reminded Lucifer gently. “But if we did, there’s nothing He could do that would make me hurt you or our baby, okay?”

His mate tightened his grip as he continued sobbing. “I  _ want _ a baby, Mikha,” he whispered into Michael’s neck.

“I want one too,” Michael agreed. He had reservations, but Lucifer wasn’t in a state of mine to discuss them right now. “Can we talk about this later?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t something he really wanted to talk about in front of the rest of their siblings, and they also had to deal with the fact that the Creator had mentally attacked Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded, and slowly, the other archangel was able to calm enough to go back into an uneasy sleep.

“We’ll need to ward this nest,” Aziraphale said. “We need to ward it well.”

“Tomorrow we can look for spells,” Raphael agreed. “There’s seven of us and a fledgling. We’ll need a very strong spell.” None of them were defenseless, but could never let their guard down. They needed these protections.

“No holds barred,” Gabriel insisted. “Not this time.”

They had all spent six thousand years doing different things, but while Michael had been sleeping and Lucifer trapped in the cage, the rest of the archangels had all been amassing knowledge in very different areas, (or at least, that was the case with Crowley, who had been masquerading as a demon, and Gabriel, who had been masquerading as a pagan.) If it was possible to ward their nest against the Creator of the Universe Himself, it would be the seven archangels working together.


	5. Euphoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took longer than it should have, but here we finally have some more Sabriel!

The following day, the archangels knew they had things they needed to do, even as much as they would have liked to continue lying in the nest. It wasn’t protected enough, not if the Creator could give Lucifer nightmares while they dozed. They couldn’t afford to be on edge all the time, because it would wear them out too much, but they needed to be able to relax in their own “home” and take necessary downtime without fearing for their sanity.

 

Raphael’s molt was still in the very beginning stages, and he needed a few hours of alone time, so he investigated the other hallways and rooms in the abandoned building Michael had built their nest in. Michael was certain he could remember other things there, even as he couldn’t remember exactly what it had been used for. (He turned down Aziraphale’s helpful suggestion of helping him remember. Some things were better left buried.) It didn’t matter what the building had been for, it felt  _ safe  _ in a way different from the rest of Heaven.

 

While Raphael was searching the building with their nest, Aziraphale dragged Crowley with him to complete two missions. The first was to bring the books from his bookstore back to Heaven because he couldn’t imagine leaving them unattended. The second task was to see if the main library had any books that might contain powerful warding spells.

 

Michael wanted to check on the rest of Heaven and make sure that everything was going well, and Lucifer had insisted on going with him.

 

And Samandriel wandered off to play. He had decided the archangels were being boring and wanted to go do more interesting things.

 

Which left Castiel and Gabriel in the nest.

 

“Still hanging around with the Winchesters?” Gabriel asked, when Castiel turned to leave, considering flying back to them.

 

Castiel shrugged. “I had believed, mistakenly, that I was no longer welcome in Heaven. And for all their snark, I like them.” He studied Gabriel’s expression and considered. “I think they, Sam especially, would not be opposed to seeing you again. We were all worried about you at the Elysium Hotel.”

 

“Maybe later.” Gabriel turned his head away. “Maybe after we figure out how to keep the Creator out of Heylel’s head. But you head on back to Earth if you want. We’re not going to keep you here against your will, promise.”

 

“I do want to come back,” Castiel replied. “I just… don’t want to lose them either.”

 

Gabriel looked at Castiel again, and then he grinned. “Of course. See you later.”

 

Castiel left Heaven and Gabriel went to check on Raphael. He probably should have been figuring out if any of his pagan magic would be helpful with the protection wards but Castiel had hit a nerve, talking about the Winchesters. He really did want to talk to Sam, but after everything he’d done to them, it didn’t seem realistic to hope for something to develop between them. He’d made a mistake. The Winchesters were soulmates, that meant there would have been no convincing Sam to let go of Dean. Just like there had been no convincing John Winchester to let go of Mary. The soulmate thing didn’t have anything to do with romance, though. Michael and Lucifer shared a mate bond, and Lucifer had intended to mate with Michael before the Creator had cast him into the cage. That the Winchesters shared a Heaven only meant that their souls shared  _ a  _ connection, and they’d been created for Lucifer and Michael, of course there would be some remnant of a connection on the soul level. Sam and Dean were close, as siblings, were what the Creator might have really intended for Michael and Lucifer (since He hadn’t exactly been pleased by the development between the two archangels.)

 

But it didn’t matter. He’d probably burned that bridge. With a shake of his head, the messenger started tracking Raphael. And promptly found him in a library, leaning against a wall, wings spread flat against it, book in his lap.

 

Before Raphael noticed him, Gabriel took a good look at his brother. There were feathers all over the floor and he could see that some had started growing in, but not many, not yet. It was still early in the molt. He could also tell that he was positioned against the wall the way he was because his wings felt itchy, but scratching like that wasn't good for them, even he knew that. “Do you need a hand?”

 

Raphael looked up. “Did Castiel leave?” he asked, ignoring the question. He patted the floor next to him, clearly inviting Gabriel to join him.

 

Gabriel walked towards Raphael. “He’ll be back, he just wanted to go see his humans for awhile. He’s got that partial mate bond with Dean, I can’t imagine.”

 

“I think you do.” Once Gabriel was seated, Raphael tugged on him until Gabriel’s head was in his lap and he was running his fingers along Gabriel’s head and shoulder and lightly straightening some feathers. “Didn’t you tell me just the other day that you want for yourself something like what Mikha and Heylel share?”

 

Gabriel sighed. He loved the feeling his siblings’ fingers in his wings. He’d missed them, and this, and he couldn’t bear to lose all of it again. “I’m sure I ruined my chance at that.”

 

Raphael hummed, but didn’t say anything, just gently groomed Gabriel’s wings. “You’re due a molt,” he said finally.

 

“We all are,” Gabriel agreed. “But we need to get those wards up, for Heylel.”

 

“I definitely found a spell that would defend a small nest. All seven of us in one room are a pretty big target, but at the very least we can already ward a space big enough for the two of them. It’d be easy to soundproof, and lock so they wouldn’t be disturbed.”

 

Gabriel blinked. “Why are you enabling them?”

 

“If they have sex in the big nest, I’m going to burn it down.” Gabriel had to glance at Raphael’s face, but the older archangel didn’t look like he was joking. He had blanched at the idea, and looked a little horrified at the idea that they  _ might  _ do that. “If they have a regular private room, I don’t have to think about that. They’re  _ just  _ sleeping.”

 

Gabriel tilted his head. “They want to have a baby. You do  _ know  _ how babies are made, don’t you?”

 

“Stop,” Raphael said. He resumed running his fingers though Gabriel’s wings. “You need to molt.”

 

“Not right now,” Gabriel replied. “They’re not that bad.”

 

“You should go visit the Winchesters. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

 

“But I ruined it!”

 

“I don’t think so.” Raphael considered. “You can’t know if he’s agreeable to a courting if you don’t ask him.”

 

“That makes it sound so old fashioned. Humans aren’t into that any more.”

 

“I think you’ll be surprised.” After a moment, he added, “I’m not sending you away. I want you to be happy. It’s okay to have both, if that’s what you want, okay?”

 

“But, they’re humans, and vessels for Mikha and Heylel.”

 

“Castiel’s mate bond with Dean is stronger than Mikha’s claim to his vessel. And you know Heylel would be displeased if that interfered with his mate bond with Mikha.”

 

“And Sam?”

 

“Consent, Gabby. Besides, they want you to be happy.”

 

“But…”

 

“The vessel thing was Dad’s idea, not theirs. And they don’t need them. But you can go ask Heylel if you think it’ll help.”

 

Gabriel stood. “Okay. And the spells?”

 

“I’ll go test them on an empty room.” He picked up the book he’d been studying and both archangels left the library in companionable silence.

  
  


Gabriel went to find Michael and Lucifer. He found them in an office in the main part of Heaven. Michael was sitting on a desk and Lucifer was standing beside him. And Michael was kissing Lucifer’s neck.

 

They couldn’t see the younger archangel from where he was standing just outside the doorway, but he watched for a moment, taking in the mate bond that he could see clearer, now that he was paying more attention. It was a stand of color (he couldn’t tell what color it was, set against the bright grace) tied into their graces, not unlike a decorative ribbon. They looked a little different for every relationship, but theirs was simple.

 

“Gabriel, stop lurking and come here,” Lucifer insisted.

 

The younger archange stepped into the room. “I just…” What was he supposed to say? That he wanted permission to court Heylel’s vessel? If there was one thing his brother was, it was possessive of his things. And besides, Sam had so many good reasons to hate him after everything, was it really worth talking to his older brothers about? They were clearly busy with things more important than his own desires. They’d waited most of 6000 years for this, what right did he have to interrupt them?

 

“Gabby, come here and tell us what the matter is.” Michael shifted, holding out his arms invitingly.

 

Gabriel couldn’t resist. They were all tactile beings, and maybe that was what he’d missed the most while he’d been away, because even if he had found other humans or pagans who were tactile, it wasn’t the same as being with his siblings. He whined as he rested his forehead on Michael’s chest.

 

Lucifer put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Speak up, Little Brother,” he said softly.

 

He shifted his teeth along his lower lip, not quite biting it. “I… I have a crush.”

 

“Yeah?” Michael asked. “Who’s the one so special to you?”

 

Gabriel’s teeth pressed harder against his lip. “He’s so handsome,” he whispered. “And his soul is so  _ bright _ . He’s human so it’s not possible to compare him to Heaven, but… just for a moment it was like being home again.”

 

Lucifer blinked. “My true vessel.” He tilted his head slightly. “You’re in love with my true vessel.”

 

“Yes.” He pressed his head harder against Michael’s chest. He waited for the scolding to come, that Sam was Lucifer’s, not his. Couldn’t be his.

 

“He better treat you right,” Lucifer mumbled. “Or we’ll be having words, he and I.”

 

Gabriel pulled his head away from Michael to stare at Lucifer in astonishment. “You… don’t care?”

 

“Why should I? He didn’t say yes, clearly isn’t going to say yes any time soon, and I don’t care about that, why should I? This vessel’s plenty fine, and it’s not like we’re going to destroy the world or humanity or anything like that, right?”

 

Michael kissed Lucifer’s neck. “I like this vessel of yours. You should keep it.”

 

Lucifer moaned. “Whatever you want,” he purred. “Long as you keep that one.”

 

Gabriel tried to take a step back. He had no interest in watching his older brothers getting handsy. He wasn’t as against it as Raphael, but that didn’t mean  _ he wanted  _ anything to do with it.

 

“Wait,” Lucifer said before Gabriel could reach the door. “You clearly like Sam, a lot, so you should go talk to him. We’re all stressed and worried about what’s going to happen next, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take a break. Heaven will still be here when you get back. We love you, and just want for you to be happy.”

  
“Thank you.” Gabriel stared at them. Their sentiment was heartfelt and honest. He didn’t feel unwanted, quite the opposite. They did want him, but they also wanted him to be happy. Even if that meant courting a human. They would let him come and go as he pleased, no trapping him in Heaven, no locking him out of Heaven. They really were going to let him have both worlds. As long as he was happy. “I’ll be back,” he swore, running and jumping out of Heaven in the same moment.  _ He had a human to talk to. _

* * *

 

Sam was alone, sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed. He was listening to something on Spotify in the background while researching for a new hunt. Dean and Cas had gone who knew where, so he was making good use of his alone time and  _ not  _ listening to Gabriel’s Casa Erotica even though he would have liked to. He hadn’t watched it much since Castiel had mentioned the courting thing because he hadn’t decided how he felt about that. Definitely not opposed, but Gabriel was an  _ archangel  _ and he was just a human. Not even a good one, with all his problems and issues. His mistakes had come so close to ending the world.

Gabriel appeared in the room, visible, with the sound of rustling feathers.

Sam looked up, hitting mute on the laptop because he’d thought it was Castiel and Dean returning and he didn’t want to deal with Dean’s expression of betrayal at Sam listening to anything other than classical rock. But it wasn’t Castiel. “--Gabriel?”

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam closed the laptop and put it off to the side, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “Um… How are you?”

“I’m good.” As the archangel said it, he realized that he actually meant it. Despite whatever the Creator had suddenly tried to do to Heylel, everything was actually pretty good. He had all his archangel siblings back, could remember them clearly, and they wanted him in Heaven, weren’t going to isolate him again. It was… really good. “The Apocalypse is cancelled, I have my siblings back.”

“That sounds good,” Sam said. “No ending the world?”

“Nope! I made them promise.” Gabriel smiled. “I, actually, I wanted to apologize. For all those Tuesdays. I should have known better than to try to prepare you for Dean’s death.”

“Gabe, I… Actually, it’s a lesson I needed to learn. Should have learned. The apocalypse started because I was so dead set on revenge. Just like Dad, just like Dean.” Sam shook his head. “Family curse, I suppose.”

“The apocalypse wasn’t really your fault, Sam. The angels were gunning for it, it was inevitable. But you know, it’s not as bad as you think. Raphael convinced Lucifer, and me, to go back to Heaven. And we found Aziraphale and Samael, too. It’s been…  _ really  _ good.”

Sam tilted his head, curiously. “So where did everything go wrong?”

“Dad…” Gabriel sighed, stepping towards where Sam was still sitting. “He’s batshit crazy, I tell you. Not the benevolent figure humans portrayed him as.”

“God’s not the good guy?”

“Nope. He left, but that’s probably for the best. He brainwashed Cas into thinking Raphael killed him. Raph didn’t, wouldn’t. He’s not the good person you’d like to think He is.”

Sam adjusted his position on the bed to make room for Gabriel. He knew the celestial didn’t actually need sleep, but he looked exhausted in a way he thought he recognized from Castiel when he’d first started thinking Heaven might have been wrong. And what Gabriel had just said, it was different from what he’d said about God in the warehouse. The archangel had been disenfranchised then, but this was different.

“I’m sorry,” the hunter said, not sure what else to say. Maybe good fathers just didn’t exist. John hadn’t been a good one, and Gabriel had even said, “As it in in Heaven, so must it be on Earth.” Perhaps it had been meant literally.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, as he sat in the offered space. “Hey…. I’m sorry about the porn. It was in such poor taste, I like you, I really do, and I shouldn’t have done that.” His ears turned pink in embarrassment.

Sam rolled his eyes and hugged Gabriel. “It’s fine. I really like you too. And you know, the porn  _ was  _ enlightening.”

“You do?” Gabriel sounded hopeful, and as Sam glanced at the archangel, he  _ knew  _ that if he wasn’t careful, he would break the archangel’s heart. But he didn’t want that, wasn’t going to do that.

“Yes, Gabriel. I really do.” Sam turned and kissed the archangel.

Gabriel was scared and it took all of his determination not to follow his instincts and flee. He liked Sam, really liked him, and the part of him that was still terrified of losing everything nice all over again wanted to run far away to shield his heart from shattering when the inevitable occurred.

Sam leaned back when Gabriel stiffened. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Did I misjudge?”

“No, no,” Gabriel answered. “I'm just… Terrified this isn't real.”

Sam hugged the archangel and pulled the unresisting form towards him. He kissed Gabriel's forehead and didn't pull away. “This is real,” he promised. “I like you a lot and I'm not going anywhere. The Casa Erotica was a courting gift, yeah? So ask what you wanted to ask.”

Gabriel met Sam's earnest gaze, looking for the lie that wasn't there. “I, the archangel Gabriel, do so declare my intent to court you, Samuel Winchester. Do you accept?”

“I accept,” Sam answered.

They sat in silence, Gabriel quietly seeking comfort from his human and Sam trying to provide it with no judgement. But after a while, he said, “Would you be willing to explain what archangelic courting entails?”

The archangel shrugged. “It’s different for every relationship. Not all human relationships are the same, right? That’s kind of the same for us, I guess. Although, I guess they usually start with a freely given gift that suggests intent. Lucifer made Michael a bond token and tried to make life safer for him. Cas gave your brother that beautiful hand print. And rebuilt him molecule by molecule.”

“Cas said they shared a profound bond… But, are you saying Cas had ulterior motives for putting Dean back together?”

“No! Not at all! Cas built Dean back together because he wanted to, and I believe he fell in love in the process. The scar is merely a physical representation of where Cas touched his soul. To angels, it reads like a… kind of like an unconsummated mate bond.”

“Is that different from an intention to court?” Sam asked.

“To some extent. Can I tell you about angelic mate bonds?” Then, without bothering to pause for a breathe let alone a response, he continued, “Angels mate  _ for life _ and my older brother recently told us that us archangels  _ can’t die,  _ not without collapsing the universe.”

“So you won’t die, and the bond lasts forever? If we go through with this, what’ll happen when I die?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not familiar with any angels and humans bonding before, but since humans  _ can  _ go to Heaven, I imagine we’ll just hang out up there someday? Your average angel goes to a place called the Empty when they die, and humans usually can’t go there, and  _ I know  _ that the bond doesn’t break or that the individuals involved aren’t separated, so maybe the bond compensates for it? I’m sorry that’s so vague, but this isn’t exactly the norm, you know?”

“And your brothers aren’t going to, resent us for this, right?”

Gabriel gave Sam the most reassuring smile he’d ever seen seen from the archangel. Which probably wouldn’t have been saying much, except he’d be hard pressed to identify one that was more so. His archangel was beaming. “Yeah! Heylel said he’d have words with you if you broke my heart, but he likes his vessel and Mikha told him he liked that vessel and…  _ They’re total saps, Sam! _ ”

Sam rolled his eyes. “If Dean wasn’t so emotionally constipated, there’d be so much less eye banging and so much more actual banging, and it would just be so much better.”

Gabriel tilted his head. “Wait, we are still talking about Cas, right?”

The hunter stared. “Uh, yeah? Who else would we be talking about? Dean hasn’t been so emotionally caught up with anyone since Cassie. Or maybe Lisa.” He blinked. “Wait… do you know whether or not Ben is Dean’s kid?”

“Of all the questions you could ask about everything I’ve just said, that’s what you’re going to ask first?” Sam opened his mouth to object, but Gabriel continued, stopping him. “Nah. Ben isn’t Dean’s child. Dean’s firstborn would have been just as much of a true vessel for Michael as Dean is, so the chorus would have celebrated having an alternative.” Gabriel waited for Sam to say anything, but the human just nodded, so the archangel decided to move forward. “Do you have any more questions about the bond stuff? I want to make sure you’re walking into this with both eyes open and I’m not sure where to start.”

“You said something about there being more than one kind?”

“Yep! The courting bond would translate as something like dating in the modern world. It’s a little different from the unconsummated mating bond that Cas and Dean have. There’s kind of a consent thing there, but it wouldn’t have formed if there had been no possible compatibility between them. And if they decided they really didn’t want to have sex, it would just dissolve, or shift into a platonic bond. Or romantic one, if they were so inclined. And then angels who have one night stands or frequent sex without the emotional attachment have a bond that would literally translate as bedmate.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “I follow. And… what do you want from me?”

“Oh, Sam. Nothing. I want nothing more than you’re comfortable giving, whether that’s something romantic, plantanic, sexual, or all of the above. But I don’t do casual flings or one night stands, okay? It’s not in my nature, as much as I might have spent a long time pretending otherwise for the sake of appearances.”

Sam nodded. “No casual flings,”he agreed, shuddering. His last one had been- Ruby, hadn’t it been?  _ Ew _ .

Gabriel stood up. “I’d love to stay and chat some more, but I need to head home. If you need anything, just pray, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam agreed. “But I’ll see you again soon?”

“Of course! Probably not for a day or two, but I’ll be back.”

The archangel was gone a few wing beats later, and Sam was left staring at the empty space left by the absence of his- what even was Gabriel to him now? Was courting like dating? Were they technically “boyfriends”? That couldn’t be right though. They’d only kissed what, once? And what was he supposed to tell Dean? “No secrets, Sam,” he’d said. But his brother hadn’t seemed annoyed about the Casa Erotica disk, had he suspected all along that Sam still harbored feelings for him after everything? He leaned back on the bed, and despite all the worries he held about what was going to happen next, and how Dean was going to react, he couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of win.  _ Apparently, he was wanted.  _ It could have been a lie or some master plan on the part of Gabriel, but he didn’t think that’s what this was. It seemed genuine, and more than anything,  _ he wanted this too. _


	6. Kaboom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some Destiel! And an angel biology lesson.

Castiel watched Dean as his hunter turned off the music and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. They were cruising back towards the motel in the impala, but they were still more than an hour away. The angel could have flown them back, but Dean had wanted to drive. And Cas kind of liked watching Dean drive. The hunter let his guard down in a way that he often didn’t and the angel liked seeing the human in his natural state.

 

After a few minutes, Dean looked over at Cas and licked at his lower lip. “Cas… do you think I should have told Sam about us sooner?” Cas debated for an answer, but Dean looked away and continued before he could have spoken. “I told Sam no more lies, so, by not telling him, I’m being a hypocrite. But on some level, it’s none of his business what I do.”

 

Cas didn’t really know what to say to that. “I… didn’t tell my older brothers either, and it wouldn’t have mattered, except…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The angel took an unnecessary deep breath. “I’m an archangel. The seventh archangel. I didn’t remember until Aziraphale made me remember that Raphael didn’t kill me, and I don’t know if it was their intention to make me remember that last bit, but… I was a fledgling archangel when heaven fell apart.”

 

Dean glanced back towards his angel and Castiel wasn’t sure exactly what he saw in his expression, except a moment later Dean steered the car to the side of the road, put her in park, and turned off the ignition. “Okay…” he said. And he didn’t sound angry, or frustrated, just curious and like he was trying to wrap his mind around it. “You’re an archangel, then.”

 

Castiel nodded and they sat quietly for a few more minutes. The archangel wondering how Dean was going to react to this revelation, and the human sitting and contemplating it. He fidgeted.

 

Dean sighed. “When we were hunting the Trickster the first time around, he seemed to embody instant gratification. And I know I haven't been around him enough to understand his real personality, him or any of the other archangels, but… as often as you say I am perfect just the way I am, you still deserve so much more than me.”

 

“Dean, the relationship between us is not defined by the standards you are trying to adhere to. I am happy with everything you’re willing to give. And if you decide you don’t want to have sex, ever, it’s okay. I like this, and all I want is for you to be happy.”

 

The hunter looked back at Cas. “I don’t want to take sex off the table, I just…” He paused, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted when he didn’t have all the words for what he felt. “I’m sorry, Cas, it’s just… I’m not ready.” He had to look away, the emotions too strong to continue looking any longer. “I want to be able to, and I feel horrible that I’m forcing you to wait on me.”

 

A moment passed, and there was a sigh from Castiel. “Dean, you are not forcing me to do anything, regardless of what the subject is. I am more than satisfied with anything you are willing and able to give me, no matter what it is. If you wish for us to be nothing more than we are now, then I will be more than happy with what you give me. And if you wish for us to take that step, whether now, or years into the future, I will be more than willing to wait for as long as you need, as long as it is something that you truly desire, and not something you are forcing yourself into before you are ready, simply because you think that it is something that is required.” A hand drifted across the space between them, reaching to hold his gently.

 

“Cas, I…”

 

He risked a glance back at the angel, and froze. The soft, loving smile upon Castiel’s face was breathtaking, and he couldn’t look away for even a moment. He was so lost in his lover’s smile, that he almost missed the next words that were spoken.

 

“It’s alright Dean. I swear to you, there is nothing that could cause me to leave you, especially if it is something in relation to a physical relationship.”

 

“But…” Dean swallowed. They’d talked about this before, so why did he feel like he  _ needed  _ validation? But he had to say it, had to hear it. “Even if… even if I’m  _ never  _ ready?”

 

The angel-  _ archangel-  _ leaned forward, pressing soft lips to Dean’s forehead. “Dean, I love you, and regardless of whether or not we ever have sex, that’s not going to change how I feel. It’s not about the sex, okay? I like the emotional bond between us, and I’m not going to pressure you to try to do something you aren’t ready for, okay?”

 

Dean closed his eyes, inhaling the scent that was all Cas. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled. “Why are you so perfect?”

 

There was a moment of silence, but then there was a sigh from Cas. “How is it that you  _ still _ do not believe yourself worthy, even after everything I have done to show you?”

 

Dean sighed as well, shrugging as he fought not to pull away. “I don’t know, Cas. You know that I don’t know, hell you probably know better than me that I don’t know.”

 

Castiel sighed again, before pressing another kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “One of these days, I will show you just how worthy you are of love.”

* * *

 

Lucifer was alone for the first time since he'd shown up at the Elysium hotel and he wasn't sure he liked it. Of course it would stand to reason that he couldn't stay at his mate's side constantly, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

The mate bond was two strands of pink and red light braided around his and Michael's graces, and the fact that it was giving off a strong healthy glow brighter than he'd seen it yet was the only reason he wasn't in the middle of a meltdown.

The fact that it was there at all meant that Michael held no doubts as to the fact that he wanted this. Lucifer knew that with a certainty he had never been able to hold for anything else. The cage could mimic things he wanted, but it couldn't fake this mate bond.

And the nightmare had only brought to light that there was one more thing he wanted more than anything else for this to be complete, and it wasn't the love of an abusive parent.

Wanting to have a baby might have seemed like an odd desire for a being like Lucifer, but Lucifer  _ wanted  _ the opportunity to raise a beautiful new life with his beloved mate. This wasn’t about the symbolism of a baby bringing them closer together, a myth which more often than not only further destroyed already strangled mortal marriages.

But a baby also wasn’t going to be the metaphorical last straw on the metaphorical camel’s back. Mate bonding didn’t work like that. Unlike humanity and their misplaced goals and desires, angelic mate bonds weren’t worn down by the tests of time. Angelkind bonded for life. And the mate bond wouldn’t form if there were certain things between the individuals that suggested they weren’t compatible.

It took a lot more than a false hope of never being separated for a bond mate to form. That wasn’t even the frosting on the cake. He  _ loved  _ Mikha. And his desire to stay with his mate for the rest of their immortal lives was an honest one, because before all the cage stuff, he’d known that Mikha loved him too,  _ and he still did,  _ even if Lucifer couldn’t quite comprehend  _ why. _ But the why didn’t matter, because the one thing that mattered the most was the bond mate pulsing pleasantly through his grace.

And the baby that he wanted to raise with Mikha… They mattered too. They mattered too and he had to go find Rafa right  _ now  _ because he didn’t even know if biology allowed for him and Mikha to carry a baby, and he had to know.

Lucifer headed towards where he thought Raphael would be. His younger brother had mentioned something about wanting to look for another library in the building Michael had chosen for their nest. Lucifer wasn’t sure what the abandoned building had been used for, couldn’t remember it having ever been used, not even when he’d been a small fledgling. But if it hadn’t been used at some point, it wouldn’t have existed, right?

Before Lucifer could make it back, he ran into his twin. They weren’t identical twins, not like Raphael and Aziraphale, but there had been a time when his sibling bond with Samael had been really strong.

“Heylel!” the black winged archangel said, embracing Lucifer before Lucifer could react.

“Samael,” Lucifer whispered, returning his twin’s hug with arms and wings. “I’m so glad you’ve come back.”

“It’s good to be home,” the archangel who was both Crowley and Samael, replied. “So you and Mikha finally tied the knot, hmm?”

“Yeah… It was too long a time coming.” Lucifer pulled back so that he could get a better look at his twin. “But what’s this between you and Azi? I’d have never seen that coming.”

“Humans are so fragile and short lived. Azi was the only Being I got to see time and again, century after century, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that we ended up forging a relationship.” Crowley smirked. “Besides, I  _ like  _ him.”

“I never would have guessed you could stand him.”

Crowley shifted his head, intending to stare at Lucifer in disapproval because his twin wasn’t  _ really wasn’t  _ as funny as he liked to think he was. But he stopped, because if there was one thing he also knew how to do, it was using humor as a defense mechanism. Hadn’t he used it for a few thousand years to hide his feelings for Azi? “Heylel, please talk to me. Do I need to go find a shovel?”

“What?! No, that’s not necessary, there’s nothing wrong! Or at least, nothing that you could fix with a shovel. Or a sharp object. It’s just,” he sighed, taking a deep breath to try and figure out how to explain all the emotions he was feeling, and what they all meant. “I really want to have a baby. With Mikha. And I don’t even know if that’s possible, and I don’t want to bring it up in case I can’t.”

Crowley nodded. “If you’re not going to talk to Mikha about it yet, you’d be a lot better off talking to Raphael, and finding out for sure. I don’t know about you and Mikha, but Azi and I have had  _ plenty  _ of unprotected sex without either of us getting pregnant, but it’s hard to say how much the fact that we tend to both prefer male forms, we don’t want children, and were on Earth, impacted that. It’s possible that any of those factors kept us from having any children, or it may be something neither of us would consider.”

Lucifer nodded. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go find a female vessel, Mikha liked  _ this  _ one. But he would, if that’s what it took. He was going to have this child, one way or another. But Crowley wasn’t finished speaking yet.

“But what do I know,” Crowley said. “I’m not a healer, I didn’t even remember I was an archangel until the other day. Go talk to Raphael.”

“Alright. See you later?” When Crowley nodded, Lucifer continued on his way.

* * *

 

Lucifer eventually found Raphael in a small room on a different floor from where Michael had built the big nest. The bed, easily big enough for him and Michael, but not really for anyone else, took up most of the room.

“Hey, Raph,” he said, pushing the door open. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

Raphael turned around. “Sure, I guess. I was testing some warding I found, I think you and Michael should be safe here.”

“You didn’t ward the nest first, so we can all be safe?”

“These spells aren’t designed for a big space, I’ll have to keep looking, but I thought this was better than nothing. And you and Michael can have nice alone time without being in danger.”

“You’d do that for us?” 

Raphael sighed. “You and Mikha are adults, and do adult things, and regardless of my feelings about certain adult acts, I wanted the two of you to have a safe place in this building that was yours, just for the two of you.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Thank you,” he said. He thought about the way Raphael had phrased his answer.

But before Lucifer could figure out how to phrase a question about that, Raphael added, “You said there was something you wanted to ask?”

“Yeah…” Lucifer paused, gathering his thoughts. “I want to know about biology. I want to have a baby with Mikha, but not necessarily create a nephil.”

Raphael turned away from Lucifer, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hide a wince and not wanting to let his brother see it. There was nothing wrong with fledglings or how they were created, (as long as it was consensual, of course) but the archangel of healing didn’t like thinking about sex, and while he could sometimes pretend they  _ weren’t  _ having sex, this was a little too prominent to easily ignore. He swallowed, trying to keep his breathing calm. It was only biology. That was it. Just biology. “I’m not familiar with any cases of angels reproducing amongst themselves, but I do know that it’s possible. But similar to how we have to get permission from our vessels, all the beings involved have to actively want said child.”

“And even though Mikha and I are both in male vessels, it’ll still work?”

Raphael gave Lucifer a look similar to one of Sam Winchester’s patented bitch faces. “What do you think? I just said that I don’t know, so why do you think I would know? Why are you asking me and not talking to Mikha? If he doesn’t want a baby, you’re not going to have a baby.”

“Raph-”

Lucifer paused, taking the time to look at his brother, and really take in all the details of what was happening. Something about the situation was causing intense discomfort in Raphael, but what was the triggering point? Was it the talk of a fledgling, causing fear after whatever it was that had kept Samandriel from growing as he should have? Was it just from the thought of his brothers partaking in those kinds of relations, the same as humans seemed to back away from discussions of those topics within their families? Or was it something more…. Sinister?

He couldn’t remember Raphael acting anywhere near this harshly towards these types of questions before he had been locked away, and it was rather concerning. He didn’t want to think that anything had happened, either towards Raphael or anyone that would have been close to him, but it was slowly becoming more and more of a possibility. Especially since Raphael had been so quick to grow agitated at the questions, when such a thing hardly ever happened, even when one was asking the most inane of questions.

He needed to know what was happening, and why. Taking a breath, he spoke, keeping his voice low to attempt to keep from spooking his brother. “Raph, what happened? I know you, and I know how to tell that something is bothering you. And this is absolutely something that’s bothering you, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. I know I’m not.”

Watching as Raphael’s shoulders tensed, Lucifer waited, wanting to see what his brother would do. It was obvious to see that he was very uncomfortable, with the tenseness in his shoulders spreading to his wings, and further through his body. But somehow, his face showed no sign of the turmoil that was clearly flooding through him. It suddenly made sense how he had been able to hide the discomfort. None of the signs showed through his face, where most would focus. Every single sign was in the rest of his body, which could all easily be explained away as being the result of something else.

Even now, Raphael was looking away, and turning to return to one of the books that lay open nearby.

“There’s nothing wrong, Lucifer. I’m busy and have more things to do today than to sit around and talk. There are numerous things that the infirmary need, both in regards to supplies and discussions to be had with healers and patients alike. And beyond that, there are nearly countless items that were uncovered in this wing, and if the rest of our brothers are busy either with their mate or finding their mate, then that leaves me to sort through it all.”

More than able to read a dismissal, Lucifer sighed, before turning to walk out of the room. He paused in the doorway though, watching his brother as he began to fuss with various details of the room. But he knew that there was nothing more that could be done. Not on his own, and not so soon after he had clearly been told to leave Raphael alone.

And so he left the room, wishing that there was more that could be done. He wanted Mikha, he wanted to talk with his mate and other siblings about his concerns, but he still didn’t want to return to the large nest, especially if it remained as empty as it was when he had left. He wanted to be with someone, anyone, to sit and hold someone, and be held in return, but where were his brothers?

He wandered through the halls that made up the wing of heaven where Michael had made their nest, hoping to come across one of the others before he had to venture into any of the main portions of heaven. While his presence in the place he had once called his home was enough to show that he meant no harm to any within, he still hadn’t really been anywhere beyond the hidden wing, and the single visit to the infirmary so soon after they had arrived, and was uncertain as to how any of the others would respond should they find him alone.

But he didn’t have to worry for long, as Samandriel turned the corner to walk down the same hall as him, the fledgling’s face lighting up in a dazzling smile as he ran to hug Lucifer, who knelt down to embrace the small being.

“Lulel! I was trying to find you, but I couldn’t remember where the nest was, and I couldn’t find Rafa, and I got lost, but I found you!”

Shaking his head at the fledgling, Lucifer adjusted his grip to be able to stand while he held onto the small body. “And why were you looking for me, Little One? I’m not as fun as Gabriel to play with, and I’ll have you know that I’m not as good at healing any bumps as Raphael.” With a grin, he continued. “Unless you want to know how to trick Gabriel, which I can absolutely teach you how to do. After all, I taught him everything that he knows, and there’s still plenty that I never taught him.” He paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at Samandriel. “And where did that little name you called me come from?”

The fledgling giggled, reaching to run careful hands through Lucifer’s feathers. “I know your name is Heylel, but they also call you Lucifer, and I wanted to call you both, but I can’t just say two different names, so I wanted to try and put them together, so I can call you both but only have to say one thing.” He looked down, not looking Lucifer in the face as he continued. “Is that ok?”

Somewhere deep inside Lucifer, something melted, and all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings flooded through him. Gently lifting Samandriel’s chin so the fledgling would look at him, he smiled. “That is more than acceptable.” Pressing a soft kiss to the top of the fledgling’s head, he began walking in the direction of the nest. It wouldn’t be so bad in there as long as he had the fledgling with him. “Now then, can you tell me what had you looking for me?”

Samandriel giggled again, a soft pink dusting his cheeks at the kiss. But the giggles soon faded, a slight pout replacing the pure joy from mere moments before. “Wanted to snuggle with Rafa, but Rafa is being weird, and I didn’t wanna bother him, so I tried finding Mikha, but he was busy, and so was Gabby and Azi and the other Sami, so I wanted to find you and snuggle with you, because everyone is too busy.”

Shaking his head indulgently, Lucifer sighed gently. “Well that’s not very nice of them. But you’re in luck, do you know why?”

Samandriel tilted his head, frowning in confusion. “Why?”

“Because I’m more than happy to snuggle with someone, especially if it’s with my favorite fledgling.”

There was a tiny gasp from Samandriel, as another soft blush colored his cheeks. “I’m your favorite?”

Somehow, something even deeper within Lucifer melted.

“How could you not be my favorite? Clearly, anyone who doesn’t have one as adorable as you as their favorite needs to rethink their list of favorites.” 

With Samandriel giggling again, and Lucifer having reached the door to the nest, he smiled as he opened the door. “Now then, why don’t we go lay in the nest, and groom those wings of yours? It looks like they haven’t been groomed beyond the surface in a few days, and you could help me with my own wings, especially with my molt coming soon.”

Samandriel paused, looking up at Lucifer with suspicion in his eyes. “No nap?”

With another soft sigh and shake of the head, Lucifer chuckled as he set the fledgling down on the soft bed. “No nap, unless you wish it. I promise.”

“I fully agree! No naps! Naps are lame!” Gabriel chimed in, his head popping up from under the many blankets that he had buried himself under, preventing himself from being seen sooner.

Slightly shocked at his brother’s sudden appearance, Lucifer adjusted quickly, shifting his approach towards the situation as a whole. “See? No naps here, just snuggles and grooming.”

After a moment, Samandriel nodded, the grin from before returning as he climbed over blankets and pillows to snuggle close to Gabriel. As the fledgling started talking about his day to Gabriel, telling the archangel about the nickname he had created, Lucifer paused.

Samandriel was right. He did have two names that he was called by. Heylel, which the other archangels tended to use, as they were the ones that could remember the time when that name had been used before, and the happy times that had been, and Lucifer, which was used by many to mock, or cast some form of blame in his direction. It had not been the name he’d given himself, but rather a name that had been forced upon him to twist his reputation. Anymore, it was only something that was used if he was in an argument, similar to a human child being called by their full name when they were in trouble.

Yet it was the name that Raphael had used when he had addressed him.

Something clearly wasn’t right, and the situation was only growing worse by the day, with Raphael’s anguish and change in attitude growing to the point of being noticed even by one as young and innocent as Samandriel.

Looking towards Gabriel, Lucifer made sure that he had his brother’s full attention. “We need to talk with the others. Something is happening with Raphael.” His words were quiet, and in a form of Enochian that was known only to the archangels and the eldest of angels, a dialect that was far too old for Samandriel to know.

Gabriel nodded softly, turning his attention back towards the fledgling before he would notice that the attention had ever shifted in the first place.

The bare bones of a plan set in place, Lucifer turned to spend time with his brother and the fledgling their brother had taken in. They would need the others before they could start coming up with a way to approach Raphael, a task that would need to wait for the right moment regardless. But for the time being, they could relax, and take comfort in each other, and the innocence of the fledgling between them.


	7. Transposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter needs a warning about discussion of sexual assault in the past and the mistreatment of fledglings. And discussions of memory tampering.

Raphael regretted everything he’d said as he watched Lucifer walk out, starting with the fact that he'd addressed his brother by the wrong name. He was probably lucky Lucifer had mellowed out a lot since bonding with Michael. If he hadn't been so mellow, he would have been angry. Possibly violent. And he would have deserved it, because he  _ knew better _ than to call his brother by the name that wasn’t even his.

 

The archangel closed the book and laid down on his back on the floor. His feelings about sexual acts didn't matter. And his brothers were happy, so he shouldn't be taking his frustration out on them. They didn’t deserve that, least of all Lucifer. He should have been happy that Lucifer had been taking responsibility and acting like an adult. He was a healer, had been a healer for most of his long immortal life. Answering simple questions about biology shouldn’t have been beyond him.

 

It was. All because of that  _ stupid  _ seraph. The one he  _ wasn’t  _ going to think about.

 

But what now? Raphael stared at the ceiling, regret coiling in his grace. He didn’t get to lash out. Lashing out was unacceptable behavior. He was an adult. He could act like it.

 

His wings itched, but Raphael didn’t move to try to fix it. He didn’t deserve the relief handling his molt would have provided because he was apparently unable to give his siblings the respect they deserved for existing. You called someone by the name they preferred. It was basic courtesy and respect, and he hadn’t even managed to pull that one off.

 

Raphael was able to withstand the irritating itch for all of about ten minutes before he flailed, thrashing his wings against the floor in his haste to get upright. The roughness was shocking, but when the itch was temporarily relieved he  _ knew  _ what he had to do.

 

The archangel stumbled forward, blinding reaching for the nearest molting feathers. He  _ needed  _ them gone. The faster he pulled them the faster the molt would end. He  _ had  _ to be able to think clearly and he didn’t have time to be an emotional mess. Molting always weakened the walls he’d built and the nesting instincts encouraged a softness towards their molting siblings and he  _ didn’t deserve it. _

 

Fingers tightened around loosened feathers and he pulled, carelessly neglecting to ensure he was pulling the entire quills from his wing flesh. Ingrown new feathers be damned. He kept pulling, grabbing all the feathers he could possibly reach. His carelessness caused some pain to shoot through his wings, but it was nothing more than constant sharp pin pricks and the pain was grounding.

 

He continued pulling feathers, stumbling around the room. He banged his shins on the bed frame more than once, but that hurt less than his wings and he didn’t care.  _ He needed it. _ There was a wetness to the underside of his wings, but he didn’t look, couldn’t see it beyond his hysterical need to keep pulling feathers.

 

Down the hall, Raphael heard the sound of footsteps and he paused, folding his wings haphazardly. He didn’t know who it was and he didn’t care. But he didn’t want them to come any closer because they might try to coddle him and he  _ didn’t want it. _

 

The wetness splattered and the footsteps came closer. Two sets, and the door was still open from Lucifer leaving. He had to do something. Anything.

 

“Raph? Is everything okay in-”

 

Raphael turned around, wondering why Michael had cut off in the middle of his sentence. Now that he was actively looking, he could see the feathers and blood scattered across the room and the horrified expression on his eldest brother’s face.  _ He’d done that. This. What had he done? _

 

Between that moment and the next, Michael was standing in front of him and Crowley was standing in the doorway.

 

“What the fuck did you do to your wings, Rafa’el?” Crowley asked.

 

“Molting, grooming.” The healer wasn’t really sure what he was doing or what the problem was. They itched and burned and he wanted to scratch. “Go away,” he added. He didn’t want to talk to them, didn’t want to deal with them. He wanted to be left alone to force his molt to hurry up and finish and he didn’t need the distraction they were providing.

  
“Uh, no.” Michael held up a hand, creating a wet towel with nothing more than a thought. The fabric of the towel was soft and the water was the perfect temperature. “I’m going to wash your face, and then we’re getting you into the bath.” He gently wiped Raphael’s cheeks with the towel, scraping the splattered blood off his brother’s face as carefully as he could.

 

“No,” Raphael argued. “Stop.” He tried to pull away. He didn’t want this. But Michael held onto his elbow and he didn’t really want to back away.

 

“I’d like to know what has you in such a state, but that can wait. Your wings need some help though, because this is not okay. But a bath first. You are covered in blood.”

 

The grip on Raphael’s elbow tightened and the younger archangel couldn’t help but follow the lead when Michael stepped back towards the door. Michael nodded in approval and led him out of the room.  _ Where were they going? _

 

“I’ll clean up in here,” Crowley said. “Raph, what room is this?”

 

“Warded bedroom for Mikha and Heylel,” Raphael answered. “Have to find spells for bigger area.”

 

“Not today, you’re not. Come on, Raph, there’s a bathtub upstairs.”

* * *

 

Despite assurances to the contrary, Samandriel fell asleep before Lucifer could finish grooming the fledgling's wings. That wasn't a surprise, because a still and quiet fledgling swaddled in warm grace was easy to lull to sleep. Lucifer finished the deep grooming anyway because a regular complete grooming was necessary form good health. He would need one before and after he molted, but as badly as he needed one, it couldn't start yet.

Lucifer couldn't sleep. After the nightmares and mental attack, along with concerns about Raphael, his mind was wrapped in too many knots for sleep to come easily.

The mate bond pulsed and he mentally held onto it, gripping tightly at the comforting reminder that he would never be isolated again. He wasn't quite sure how it worked yet and Mikha was probably still busy with important work, so he didn't try to mess with it. He just held it, embracing the soothing presence that was permanent.

He would have his child and his mate, he just needed to talk to Mikha first. Make sure he wanted this as much as he did. And someone needed to talk to Raphael.

“Gavri’el?” Lucifer whispered, checking to see if Gabriel was still awake. They needed to talk about Raphael. Something was wrong, he could feel it. “Have you noticed anything weird about Raphael’s reactions to discussions of sex?” The lightbringer spoke in the oldest form of Enochian, something not even the small fledgling would be capable of understanding. The fledgling didn’t need to hear anything about his suspicions of what had happened to Raphael.

“He said something about burning down this room if you and Mikha had sex in here, but that seems like an exaggerated response.”

“He called me Lucifer,” Heylel said. “I didn’t say anything, but… I like being Heylel. Lucifer isn’t me. Not now, and not ever. Not by my choice.”

“And what did you say to trigger  _ that  _ response?” Gabriel asked.

“I was asking about our biology, that’s all. Whether or not it would be possible for our kind to reproduce amongst itself without nephilim. And then I wanted to know if our vessels would play into it. He answered the first part, but then he addressed me by the wrong name and asked me to leave. I’ve never seen that expression on his face.”

“Sex-repulsed asexual is a human identity, perhaps Raphael is just sex-repulsed?” Gabriel suggested.

“It’s possible,” Lucifer agreed. “But this seems… more intense.”

“Calling you by the wrong name and more or less telling you to get lost-” Gabriel paused, mouthing silent words to himself for a moment, before frowning deeply. “I hate to say it, but that sounds kind of like a reaction victims have. I saw it a lot when I was acting as a trickster, and dishing out punishment to the ones who did those sort of things.”

“Who would assault an archangel, though? And when?”

“Sami’s complained about Michael taking a long nap, perhaps it happened when Raph was all alone leading Heaven?”

“But who? Who would assault an archangel? Are they still alive? Did it happen here in Heaven?”

“Heylel… those are questions we’ll need to ask Raph, when he’s ready to talk about it.”

Lucifer pouted, but he  _ knew  _ Gabriel was right. This was all speculation right now.

His mate bond with Michael pulsed, and he gave a mental brush against it.  _ “Is Raphael okay?” _

_ “Not right now, but he will be.” _

* * *

 

It took a lot of persuasion, but eventually Michael was able to get Raphael into the bath. The bathroom was huge, and so was the tub. The tub was easily bigger than a king sized bed, with more than enough room for Michael, Raphael, and their wings. 

Michael examined the contents of the tall cupboard filled with bath supplies. He found a mild soap that wouldn’t irritate Raphael’s wings more than they already were, and he looked to see what other things were in the cupboard.

The eldest archangel had given his younger brothers plenty of baths when they had been small, and one thing he remembered was how fun bubble baths were. Raphael wasn’t a fledgling anymore, but that didn’t mean the soothing properties wouldn’t help the healer settle down.

There was a bottle labeled in Raphael’s neat handwriting. It was bubble bath for banged up fledglings, which implied that it would be gentle enough for his wings and perhaps provide some relief as well.

The bubble bath smelled of vanilla and mint, a soothing combination that pleased Michael. He added some to the water and watched at it started bubbling. The he rubbed the soap onto a soft washcloth and returned “I’m going to wash the blood off your body, is that okay?”

Raphael flinched, but didn’t try to resist Michael’s gentle scrubbing.

Michael finished washing out the blood. “Raph, can you tell me why you’re so upset?”

“Don’t deserve comfort,” Raphael mumbled, making an effort to look anywhere but at Michael. “Messed up.”

The elder archangel put a hand on Raphael’s jaw. “There’s nothing you could ever do that would make you any less deserving of our comfort, Rafa. Nothing.”

“Not true,” Raphael whispered, trying to back away from Michael. “Not true. Called Heylel ‘Lucifer’, sent him away.”

“If Heylel didn’t slap you, it can’t have been  _ that  _ bad.”

“Was mean. Disrespectful. Shoulda held my temper.”

Michael blinked.  _ Temper?  _ Raphael  _ never  _ lost his temper. He was the most patient of all of them. So what had happened? “Raph, did Heylel say something that upset you?”

“Don’t wanna talk about reproduction. Never,  _ ever _ .”

Michael raised an eyebrow. Why had Heylel been asking those kinds of questions? Unless… Heylel still wanted a baby and had hoped Raphael would have some answers about the how. “Can you tell me why, Raph?”

“No. Don’t wanna. Don’t wanna!” Raphael struggled, trying to go backwards when he was already near the edge of the tub. In his agitation, his wings swiped at the water and he let out a hiss.

Michael reached forward to embrace Raphael, hoping to prevent him from hurting himself. “It’s okay, Raph, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you, but if I’m going to help you, I  _ need  _ to know what happened.”

Raphael squirmed, but didn’t try to object as strongly as he had earlier.

“Let’s try something else...Something easy. You left rather abruptly when Heylel and I were doing that wing grooming demonstration, have you seen too many seraphs getting handsy?”

“No,” Raphael replied. “You and Heylel are the only handsy seraphs.”

“Okay…” Michael considered. “Do you associate it with pain?”

Raphael swallowed, and then edged his lip into his mouth. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to talk about it, not at all. But Mikha wasn’t going to take that as an answer. Why did Mikha care so much? He didn’t deserve it. “Yeah…” he said finally. “You and Heylel were so happy, and then He cast Heylel out of Heaven. And for what? Because he liked you?”

Michael blinked. “Raph… Heylel and I never had sex until now. Maybe there could have been less misunderstandings if we hadn’t waited but…  _ we did _ . And sure, Heylel confronted Him for me, but you didn't know that. So what happened, Raphael? Why were you so upset about Heylel asking how fledglings are created that you called him by the wrong name?” When Raphael didn’t answer and just continued to stare at him, he said, “Did someone do something to you?”

Raphael shook as the barriers he’d built between himself and the incident fell one by one and he sank down into the water, pulling his wings tight against himself in an effort to protect them. He didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it. Despite having happened so long ago, no amount of time away from it was going to make it go away.

Michael pulled Raphael into a hug. “It's okay,” he whispered. “I'm here for you. We're all here for you.”

Raphael whined, trying to hold back tears. “Don't deserve comfort,” he mumbled. “Don't deserve it.”

“That's not true.” Michael hugged his brother tighter. “There's nothing you could ever do that would make you any less deserving of happiness and I will continue to repeat that until you believe me.”

“Broke Healer's oath.” Raphael's voice broke and he shuddered in Michael's arms. “I didn't mean too, but I smote them.”

Michael was silent, and Raphael knew instantly that he had made a giant mistake. He was going to find out. He was never supposed to find out. He was going to be in so much trouble.

And then Michael spoke. “It was self-defense, wasn't it.” It wasn't a question. Raphael didn't want to talk about sex because it brought up memories of pain, and he'd smote whoever had done it. In certain circumstances, the grace unconsciously lashed out in self defence. “Rafa'el, it's okay. You were protecting yourself and there is nothing wrong with that. Okay? Nothing.”

Raphael sobbed into Michael's shoulder and Michael held him, gently rubbing his back.

There was gentle pulsing in Michael’s mate bond, and he could feel that it was Heylel reaching for it. A moment later he heard a soft whisper,  _ “Is Raphael okay?”  _ There was worry and concern in his voice, causing Michael to wonder what all his mate had figured out from their brother’s unusual actions.

_  
_ “Not right now,”  _ Michael answered honestly.  _ “But he will be.” _ _

* * *

 

There was a tension within heaven, one that would not ease quickly. For the most part, it was understandable, as the atmosphere of the home of angels was determined not only by the numbers within, keeping the very fabric if the area alive, but also by the general attitude held by the vast majority of those within.

__

Before, when there had been no threat of any falling to harm, or of betrayal from within, the atmosphere had been calm. Joyous even, when the occasion had been right. None of them had known the hurt of abandonment, or the kind of anguish that would lead to one causing harm upon themselves.

__

But that kind of pain was exactly what Aziraphale could feel coming from his twin, even from as far away as he was. He longed to go to his brother, to find exactly what was causing such pain, and to hide him away from the cause, but such a thing was not to be possible. He had instead been forced to task Samael with seeking out Raphael, as the task at hand could not be delayed any longer than it already had been.

__

With assurance that his brother would be taken care of, he turned back to the item that had caught his attention.

__

It seemed to be little more than a journal, detailing a young healer's journey as they learned the healing arts, as well as records of patients with interesting tales, or injuries worth note, such as new ways to treat an ailment. But it was not what it appeared to be. It was something else entirely, disguised as something of little import, when it was easily the most important item within the small storage area it had been tucked away in. He was almost impressed with the numerous levels of misdirection that were at work; appearing at first to be the journal of a novice in its first layer, before giving way to proof the owner had been skilled at their craft, though no sign of what that craft entailed had ever been given.

__

But even after breaking down so many layers of wards, spells, and plain trickery, Aziraphale was still certain that there was yet more that was being hidden away. The very existence of the journal almost confirmed his suspicion on its own, with such a mystery being hidden away in the furthest storage area possible, buried under several other journals that looked identical, both on the outside and within, but only the one in his hands was behaving in such a fashion, with so many locks keeping the true contents hidden away. As it was, he could feel the locks shifting and changing, working to actively keep any of the seals from being broken by any, save for the one who had placed them all.

__

But whoever had placed the locks had clearly never accounted for one as powerful as he was finding the journal, much less actively trying to discover its true contents. And as he adjusted his grace one final time, the last seal holding the illusion in place fell away, causing all the words previously written within to fade away, making way for the true contents to reveal themselves.

__

Pleased that he had finally gotten through the hundreds of barriers that had blocked the truth, he carefully turned back to the first page within the journal, which now seemed far older than it had appeared moments before. So old in fact, that it was written almost entirely in the ancient Enochian, rather than the form that most angels knew. But the handwriting was not that of any of those he remembered would have known the ancient Enochian. Another mystery to be solved.

__

Regardless, he began to read, and quickly grew disturbed with what he had found.

__

No longer were the words those of a healer, eager to help others recover from their ailments. Instead, they were those of one who knew only one way to ease pain, no matter what the cause. To hide it away, with no concern as to if the sufferer would ever find it again.

__

The first subject to their testing had been a fledgling, traumatised by something the one who had brought them would not disclose. But it hadn't mattered, and the memory of what had scared the fledgling was buried away, seemingly to never be remembered.

__

Then there had been a seraph, longing to forget the pain of losing the one they loved. By the time all was said and done, not only had they forgotten how their love had been killed, they no longer remembered that they had ever loved the other in the first place.

__

Third had been another fledgling, one who's mentor had abandoned them, who had wanted a fresh start. Fourth was a seraph who was gravely injured, betrayed by a brother. Fifth, a healer who had lost a patient. Sixth, a lone survivor of an attack. Seventh, a prisoner who wished for freedom, even if it meant starting anew. 

__

The list seemed nearly endless, with more and more reports appearing with every turn of the page. Aziraphale was horrified at how many were reported, even without names or faces to put to the memories that had been taken from them. It was starting to seem that nearly every angel in heaven had at least one memory taken from them, as well as having the fact that such a thing had ever happened covered up, so the one responsible would never be caught.

__

But then something changed. The writing shook, spelling mistakes appearing for the first time, though they had been blotted out. This was something important, and he knew he had to treat it as such. And so he began to read in detail, feeling sick as he did so.

__

_ Experiment 477. _

__

_ Subject came to me in a fright, babbling about betrayal and pain, much like the rest. But this one was different. It was an archangel. _

__

_ It took time to discover what had happened, and by the time he subjected himself to my talents, there was quite the tale to be told. But no matter. He wishes to forget, and I will grant it. The first treatment will be of the event, to dull the pain. But once the result of the event has come to be, I will take that memory as well, and remove all trace of what happened. _

__

_ Though, perhaps it was for the best that such a thing happened. More young are always needed. And young from one as powerful as he is will only be of use to us all in the future. _

__

The entire report made him feel ill. For something to happen that would cause such a response from an archangel was concerning. But it was last line shook Aziraphale to the core of his grace.

__

The mention of one's young….. A fledgling? And one born of a trauma it seemed. There was only one thing that could cause such a trauma, yet result in the creation of a child. And to commit such an act upon an archangel? It was an action as close to the human concept of treason as any could commit.

__

Dread filling his being, he flipped through the next several pages quickly, looking for any sign that his fears were unfounded.

__

But it was not meant to be.

__

_ Experiment 515 _

__

_ The archangel returned to me, holding in his arms the first fledgling born in thousands of years. The memory of what had happened to him were too much to bear, even after I had dulled them, and he wished to see the child as he had seen all those before. _

__

_ As an innocent, not one tied to his rape. _

__

Horrified with what he had found, Aziraphale held the book close to his chest as he flew back to the family nest as fast as his wings could carry him. This couldn't be true. But there was only one who could prove one way or another what happened.

__

The youngest of all angels, who had been taken in by his twin.

__

He entered the room where the family nest was in a hurry, slamming the door open, not caring that he startled everyone inside as he climbed over them all, ignoring all of their words as he pulled the whining fledgling into his lap, holding him close as he felt for the grace within the child. He needed to know.

__

There was something about the grace that made up the child of two angels that was similar to how genetics in humans worked. There would be a combination of the grace of the parents, and something that would be uniquely the fledgling’s, similar to how siblings would take after parents, yet be unique in some way.

__

But as he felt for the grace within Samandriel, he could feel the same seals and locks hiding away a large portion of the fledgling’s grace. Ones that he wouldn’t be able to break open on his own. But there was still something there, something just under the surface, something he  _ could _ release.

__

And he did.

__

And all of them felt the impression of Raphael’s grace coming from Samandriel.


	8. Settlement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of past sexual assault.

Sam was still alone in the hotel room, haphazardly browsing the internet for a new case, when the familiar sound of wings made him look up. He wasn’t sure who it could be. Gabriel had said he was going back to Heaven and Castiel had been with Dean and was unlikely to pop in because  _ why _ . It was Dean he shared that profound bond with, and he came when  _ Dean  _ called, not him.

 

So when he heard the wings, he spent a split second wondering if he was about to die before he looked up and saw that it was Castiel. Sam was shocked, and he couldn’t decide if he was more shocked than he would have been if it had been Gabriel returning. At least he could reason out an excuse for Gabriel to be here, but Castiel?

 

The angel didn’t look any different, but he was holding an object that confused Sam. “Uh, hey Cas,” he said. “I thought you were with Dean?” If he hadn’t known that Castiel  _ had  _ been with Dean, then what he would have asked would have been more along the lines of ‘Dean’s not here, can I help you?’ Or something.

 

“I was,” Castiel replied. “But Dean has little to do with why I’m here.” And oh, did that sound ominous, Sam thought.

 

“Okay…” Sam said, not sure why else Castiel would come here. He’d been clear right from the start that Dean was his priority, when anyone was a priority, and more or less only put up with Sam because the Winchesters were a package deal, or at least, had been, until Lilith. Although, things had been infinitely better since Sam had bore his soul to a dying Dean. Still, that didn’t have anything to do with Castiel either. “So, what’s up?”

 

“The ceiling?” Castiel tilted his head. “I’m sorry, am I missing a- colloquialism, I believe you called it?”

 

Sam blinked. Castiel had always seemed so confused by the way they said and phrased things, especially Dean’s jokes, but never once had he asked for clarification so eloquently. “It’s just a way of asking about someone’s well being or inquiring as to why they’re somewhere. I was using it to informally ask you why you’re here because it was  _ not  _ what I was expecting.” He swallowed. “Not that I’m not happy to see you it’s just…” Sam stopped, realizing he was rambling on about nothing.

 

“That you have come to predict my arrival as being related to Dean and not with yourself,” Castiel finished for him. “Part of why I am here is to rectify that, and to apologize.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “But… You have the “profound bond” with Dean, not with myself, so why do you care? I don’t mind, I get it, I do.” He was insignificant, irrelevant, useless. It was shocking that Gabriel wanted anything to do with him, let alone  _ have some kind of mate bond with him,  _ so why should someone as bound to their cause as Castiel have any interest in him?

 

“I have explained some about angelic courting rituals, and I’m sure that Gabriel has mentioned others, I know he was here earlier, but it would take a very long time to explain all of them at once. But as much as I am here because of one of them, I’m here for another reason as well.” Castiel took an unnecessary breath. “I came to apologize, honestly, for how I addressed you when we first met, and for how I treated you. It was out of line.”

 

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Sam said. “I deserved it.” He shook his head. “Demon blood… what the fuck was I thinking?”

 

“You were manipulated by both heaven and hell. You are not to blame.”

 

Sam scratched at his wrist. He didn’t believe Castiel, but this wasn’t the fight he wanted to pick. “You mentioned being here because of a courting ritual. If you’re apologizing because you feel obligated, don’t.”

 

Castiel shook his head. “I’m apologizing because I was out of line, and I know that. I’m sorry, Sam. Your soul is beautiful. Dean is lucky to have you as a brother and Gabriel is lucky to have found you.”

 

“Thanks, I guess.” Sam said.

 

Castiel held up the item he was holding, which appeared to be a pillow, and stepped towards the bed where Sam was lying. “I would like to explain one of our mating traditions.” He held out the pillow like he wanted Sam to take it, so Sam did. It was the softest pillow Sam had ever touched. “Angels, and especially archangels, are immortal wavelengths of celestial intent. We share a creator, but we’re not siblings in the way that the word implies. We don’t have genetics and we weren’t all raised together. But we do have small “flocks”, which is not the least of our similarities with birds. Flocks don’t always merge when a mate bond forms between two members of different flocks, but sometimes they do, and other times, the mated pair starts a new flock.”

 

“This is a pillow.”

 

“It is a pillow filled with down from my last molt. You haven’t seen our wings yet, but like birds, we have feathers and molts. And nests, which is where the pillow comes in. One of the traditions involves introducing the intended mate to all of one’s flock. For our purposes, your flock is you and Dean. While this may not apply in the reverse, at some point you will likely be properly introduced to all of our flock.”

 

“The archangels,” Sam whispered. “You and the archangels.”

 

“It turns out that a long time ago, someone wiped my memory of being an archangel, and there are seven of us, but yes, that is the flock I’m referring to.”

 

“Seven?”

 

“Michael is the eldest. He has a mate bond with Lucifer, whose real name is Heylel. Heylel’s twin is Samael, who is mated to Raphael’s twin, Aziraphale. They were next. Gabriel was sixth, followed by me. But I came way later, after most of the ranks of angels had already been created.”

 

“That really explains why you gave me a pillow.”

 

“This is not anything you will need to reciprocate, but my kind nests in soft blankets and pillows. By giving you this pillow made with my down feathers, I am contributing to your nest and furthering flock bonds. Will you accept this gift?”

 

Sam nodded, examining the pillow again. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s a handsome gift.”

 

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” A moment later, and the sound of wingbeats emphasised Castiel’s exit.

 

“Huh.” Sam examined the pillow. It was soft and exactly the thickness that he preferred in a pillow. Closing his laptop and moving it aside, he put the pillow at the head of the bed and leaned back.  _ It was perfect _ .

 

Sam Winchester was asleep in moments. And for the first time in years, his sleep was peaceful.

* * *

 

The nest was not the calm and collected space Castiel expected it to be when he returned. Not only were several of the others missing, but Gabriel and Heylel were talking amongst themselves quickly, using a form of Enochian that he only knew through instinct and the barest whispers of memory from his time with them before Heylel’s imprisonment. Samandriel was held closely in Gabriel’s arms, both of the archangels carefully shifting the sleeping fledgling’s feathers as they talked.

“Castiel, come talk with us.” Gabriel offered, waving him close. “There’s a mystery on our hands, and we need to solve it.”

Frowning in confusion, but unable to find any reason not to join them, Castiel climbed into the nest, careful not to make enough noise to wake Samandriel. “What mystery?” He questioned, voice quiet.

Heylel sighed, shaking his head softly. “I don’t know if you would know, but something has happened to Raphael in the time when we were all gone from him. Something that left him almost incapable of discussing certain topics, even when confined to mere biological possibilities, and not as an action to be put into practice. It’s entirely possible that whatever may have happened to him happened while you would have been too young to be able to remember it, but any theories you can come up with would be appreciated.”

That didn’t make much sense. What could Heylel be talking about? Michael had been away for quite some time, it was true, but there had never been a time where Raphael had been away from the host, not that Castiel could recall.

But there had been one moment, something buried deep within his memory, hidden the same as his true self had been. A time when something had been different, and the memory was rising to the surface quickly.

“There is only one point in time when one could say that Raphael was….. Different, if you wish to call it that,” he began, trying to remember what all had happened back then. “I was young, barely old enough to be tasked with running messages across heaven for the various leaders of units, as most around Samandriel's age were tasked to do. Michael had been missing for several years at that point, receiving revelation from Father, we were told. And with the rest of the archangels missing and presumed dead, that left Raphael to handle any possible situations that would arise.”

“There was another though, one that Raphael had been close to, that he shared much of his time with, when he wasn't training the newest healers. So much time, there were rumors that there would be a mateship to come of it, but they were nothing more than rumors.”

He paused then, trying to gather his thoughts, when Heylel spoke. “But something happened.”

Castiel nodded. “No one knows what, but one day they went off on their own, to wherever they would spend time alone. And….” He trailed off, unsure as to how to carry on.

Gabriel lifted a hand then, reaching out to place the hand on Castiel's shoulder. “What happened?”

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “Raphael returned nearly three hours later, alone. And something had happened, something bad enough to have him in tears, and shaken.” The look on his brother's face, though it was so long ago when it had happened, was still burned into his mind, as clear as it had been all those years ago. “He, he said that they had been attacked, and that the attacker had killed the one he was with. But…”

Heylel shifted then, moving to embrace Castiel, which he took comfort from as he continued. “A close flockmate and I snuck away, determined to bring back Raphael's companion for a proper send off, so they would not be left to rot, forgotten by everyone. But when we found where they had been killed, we did not find the scene of a battle. The only sign of struggle was small, and confined solely to within three feet of his body.”

Heylel sighed then, tightening his grip on Castiel. “They did something to Raphael. And I think we can all figure out what it was.”

Castiel nodded. “I understand that now. But we were so young, we didn't understand the signs, and were quickly made to forget what we had seen.”

* * *

 

Sam was still sound asleep when Dean returned, opening the door. He wasn’t loud about it, and as he stepped through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was Sam conked out on the bed. “Sam?”

Sam bolted upright. “Hey, Dean, everything alright?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Have you found our next hunt yet?”

“Not yet. Uh, Castiel stopped by. He brought me a pillow. And then I took a  _ really  _ nice nap… What time is it anyway?”

“I think it’s a little after eight. Did you eat dinner?”

“No….  It can’t be! You’re sure it’s after eight? I think Cas arrived a little before noon.”

Dean blinked. “You took an eight hour nap?” He gave Sam a worried look. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Not since breakfast, no. Gabriel dropped by before Cas did, we had a really nice chat.”

Dean held up the takeout bag in his hand. “Do you want this salad and hamburger I picked up for you earlier?” He set it down on the table.

Sam shrugged and joined his brother at the table. “Sure. I must have just been real tired.”

“Sure….” Dean trailed off, watching Sam as he dug through the bag. “I guess you didn’t look for any new hunts then.”

Sam shook his head as he pulled out the salad. “Not in depth, but I did look through a little bit, and it was all quiet. Nothing to be seen from any of the usual sources, or even any of the less common ones. And then Cas showed up, and I guess I just took a nap for a while.”

Dean looked at his brother, taking the time to really take in all the details, how tired he looked at all times. It almost looked like Sam had lost weight, but it had been so long since he was actively aware of his brother’s health, that it was hard to tell. Not wanting to stress Sam, Dean shook away the thoughts, looking at Sam pointedly. “Eat. You need it.”

Sam looked at him strange, but rolled his eyes as he started to eat. “I hope you had something to eat too.”

Pausing for a moment, Dean took a breath. He wanted to tell Sam, but how?

“Yeah, me and Cas grabbed something to eat before I came back. He said he had something to do back upstairs, but he would be back soon.” It was as close to a confession as he would be able to get, but would Sam take it for what it was?

But Sam just nodded, taking another bite of his salad. “Well, at least you guys got to do something before he left.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was true, but it wasn’t what he’d been hoping Sam would get out of what he’d said. He really did want to tell Sam about what was between him and Cas, but he couldn’t just come out and say it because nothing was ever that easy. So he dropped it. “You said Gabe stopped by too? How did that go?”

“I think it went well,” Sam said. “He mentioned the apocalypse is over, for real. He and his brothers are getting along well, I guess. Did Cas tell you Raphael didn’t really kill him? Or at least, that’s what Gabe said. Something about God not being the good guy.”

“Cas mentioned that, right before he mentioned he’s also an archangel but he didn’t remember that until someone named Aziraphale made him remember. Didn’t He throw his favorite son into Hell? And abandon all his children? Doesn’t sound like a very nice guy to me.”

Sam put his fork down and Dean wondered if he really should have said that out loud. But they still hadn’t talked about how they felt about the other archangels. And he didn’t even know who this Aziraphale was.

“Cas said there’s seven archangels, and he named the the other six for me,” Sam said. He picked up the fork and poked at the salad some more. He didn’t really have much of an appetite, but Dean was still staring at him and would probably scold him if he stopped eating.

“Do we know who the two we haven’t met are?” Dean asked.

“I haven’t met Raphael,” Sam reminded him, chewing on another bite of salad. “But I’m going to assume it’s his twin and Lucifer’s twin.”

“They both have twins?”

“Uh-huh. Also, Lucifer isn’t really his name and Cas didn’t say as much, but I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to call him by the other one if he prefers it. But this is interesting. So, his real name is Heylel, and Cas called his twin Samael, and I think that’s interesting because that means all the human sources got it wrong, because most of the time in lore, they’re both used as alternative names for Lucifer. And Aziraphale is Raphael’s twin.”

“How come we never heard about either of them when the apocalypse is going down?”

“Uh…. so you know how there was a prophet writing about us? I think there was a different prophet writing about them too.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean asked.

Sam finished his salad and unwrapped the sandwich Dean had brought for him. “The only hit I got researching the name Aziraphale was for a book written in 1990 about an angel named Aziraphale and a demon named Crawly.”

“Crowley? Fuck.”

“Not that Crowley. This one’s a fallen angel who can’t remember his angelic name. Aziraphale couldn’t remember it either, but you know, I  _ bet  _ if all of them are chilling in Heaven, they might have remembered what it was by now. In the beginning of Good Omens, he gives an apple to Eve, which is a feat often attributed to Lucifer. But Cas called him Samael, and I think that all makes sense.”

“Have you read this book?”

“I read it in college. It’s really good, but I think I liked it better when I thought it was fantasy. Although, Cas said they’re bonded and they are perfect for each other, so I guess it could be worse.”

“Was there anything else?”

Sam shrugged and yawned. He decided he didn’t want to eat the hamburger after all. “I think Gabriel and I are dating. Are you ready for bed? I’m really tired.”

Under other circumstances, Dean might have thought that Sam was trying to avoid the question with redirection. But looking at his little brother, he could see that Sam really  _ was _ completely exhausted. Which was really odd, because they’d been sleeping minimally for a decade with no ill effects. But he let it go. “Yeah, I could sleep. Are you going to eat that hamburger?”

“Not hungry.” Sam stood up, and headed back for his bed and the tantalizing pillow Cas had brought for him.

Dean watched for a moment, worried about why Sam would need so much sleep, but then decided he might as well follow suit. He could worry about it after a full night of sleep.

* * *

 

If Crowley had really wanted to, he could have just snapped the room clean, and if it had been any other room, he would have done just that. But even if he didn’t really know what was going on with Raphael, he did know that his little brother had put in a  _ lot  _ of effort with the warding of the small room and making it perfect for Michael and Heylel. So he collected the mangled feathers and scrubbed the blood off the floor by hand.

It gave him time to think without the pressure of the other archangels around. The change in development wasn’t going to affect his mate bond with Azi,  _ he hoped,  _ but being home, in Heaven, was still not the outcome he’d expected. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. But it wasn’t this.

At the same time though, he was glad to be home. Now that he could remember, he missed his flock. That’s what they’d always been. Even before God had cast them out. And now he was home.

Crowley scrubbed harder. This was to be Mikha and Heylel’s room, and they deserved it. The menial task was supposed to keep him from thinking to hard about why Raphael had been in such a state.

He finished up and headed back to the family nest, hoping that maybe some of the other archangels would be in there and he wouldn’t have to be all alone.

“It’s okay, Cas,” his twin was whispering when he opened the door and poked his head inside.

Gabriel, Heylel, and Castiel were lying together in the nest, the small fledgling tucked between them and they had been speaking in the oldest form of Enochian, something Crowley hadn’t heard or spoken since getting cast out. He didn’t blame Heylel for that though, they’d been children seeking knowledge.

“Is there room for one more?” he asked quietly. He used their Old Enochian, guessing they hadn’t wanted to awaken the fledgling or be overheard.

“Come join us!” Gabriel exclaimed. “We were just talking about Rafa’el. Have you noticed anything off about him?”

“Mikha and I found him in a weird state, but Mikha took him to take a bath. He was tearing feathers out of his wings.”

The other three archangels all winced, wings twinging in sympathy.

“Do you have any ideas what might have happened in there?” Crowley asked. “I can’t remember Rafa’el ever looking so disheveled.”

“It’s my fault,” Heylel said, sounding guilty. “I asked him for some information he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. We’re pretty sure that at some point while Mikha was taking a long nap, he was sexually assaulted.”

Crowley laid down, blinking at them.  _ Who the fuck would sexually assault an archangel.  _ He was going to fucking smite them.  _ No one  _ touched his baby brothers.

“They’re dead,” Castiel added, reading the expression on Crowley’s face. Or perhaps the anger in Crowley’s grace.

“Okay.” Crowley drew out the second syllable as he considered this new level of information. Raphael might have acted the way that he had because Heylel had triggered a panic attack. But what could they do to help Raphael now? What was Azi always telling him? Being supportive and building a support network.  _ They were a flock and they were all home.  _ But what if Raphael was mad they all knew, because  _ he  _ hadn’t been the one to tell them?

Before Crowley could phrase his newest train of thought into a question for the others, the door slammed open and his mate was bursting in, headed straight for the fledgling. None of them could get any words in edgewise before Aziraphale was climbing all over the top of them, and pulling at the now awake and whining Samandriel.

_ Even demons knew better than to wake a sleeping baby. Usually. _

As his mate, Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s grace the best, and he watched in confusion as the other archangel reached for Samandriel’s core. Gabriel, sensitive to the fledglings discomfort was standing, but Crowley stopped him with a shake of his head. Azi wasn’t going to hurt their fledgling, even if he couldn’t quite tell what he was doing.

And then, they all felt the suddenly overwhelming impression of Raphael’s grace emitting from the fledgling and they all had their answer.

* * *

 

Michael washed Raphael’s wings as carefully as he could. After crying himself out, the healer’s mindset appeared to have shifted back to normal, but that didn’t mean he was going to leave him alone. The extensive damage to Raphael’s wings needed careful treatment, and he was going to do just that. He didn’t stop there though. One of the products in the cabinet was designed to ease the discomfort in fledglings brought on by their molts, so he decided he’d use that on the entirety of Raphael’s wings. Even if that meant using all of the product.  _ Which he probably would. _

“Mikha, I am not a fledgling,” Raphael said for at least the tenth time. “Why are you treating me like one?”

“I know you’re not a fledgling. But I also can’t remember the last time I actually got to give any of you a bath, so I am going to take pleasure in doing this. Besides, do you even use this product on Samandriel? It’s going to waste.”

“Samandriel does not molt. I use other bath products to keep his wings healthy.”

“See? No waste here.” To emphasize his point, he poured another glop into a hand and continued scrubbing Raphael’s wings.

Raphael huffed, but he didn’t keep arguing, and Michael could tell that it was more for show than anything else. His little brother was enjoying himself.  _ Good. He deserved it. _

The rest of the bath didn’t take very long, but drying out wings always took a long time. It was part of why most fledglings really hated getting their wings wet.

Michael tried to dry Raphael’s wings with a towel, but Raphael was shivering and shaking his wings such that it was making it impossible to do much more than duck out of the way of a wayward limb. “You’re doing this on purpose!” Raphael hid a laugh, but Michael saw the repressed giggle all over his face. And it was nice. When was the last time he’d seen his little brother laugh? Raphael had  _ always  _ been the most sedate of them, but had  _ any  _ of them laughed since the negotiation for peace had gone well? They were all happy, but they were also tensed and pretending they weren’t all terrified for whatever the Creator tried next. They all knew he was going to try something else, because there was no way he was going to just let them live peacefully after everything he’d done to separate them and keep them apart.

The eldest shook his head, letting Raphael’s wing thump him heavily on the back. “Hey! What was that for!”

Raphael smiled. “You’re worrying. The world isn’t going to end in the next five minutes, so just, relax!”

Michael rolled his eyes, but Raphael was waving his wings and that was drying out his wings faster than the towel was.

_ “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” _

Michael heard it from the bond, but it wasn’t Lucifer speaking. It sounded like Gabriel joking, but he recognized  _ that  _ wry tone. It was Gabriel’s attempt at using humor to hide his real feelings, which were probably stress, worry, and terror, at this particular moment.

He was about to prod Lucifer asking what Gabriel was going on about, but he didn’t have to. A moment later, he and Raphael both felt it.

It wasn’t specifically Raphael’s grace. More like an echo. But it was strong and before Michael could say anything, Raphael was chasing it.

They followed it back to the family nest and Michael stood in the doorway and Raphael plowed forward, plucking the wailing fledgling from Aziraphale’s arms and holding safely and securely in his arms. “It’s okay, Sami,” Raphael was whispering, soothingly. “It’s okay.”

“Rafa!” the fledgling cried, clinging to Raphael as tight as he could. “No nap, no nap!”

“You’re ok Sami, you just got spooked,” Raphael soothed, rubbing Samandriel’s back softly as he began crying as well.

As the pair continued, Michael turned on the others, looking them all down. “Explain, now.”

They all looked at each other, before Lucifer sighed, explaining everything through the bond. And as he learned more and more of the story, Michael felt sick. Everything had happened because he had fought the Creator, and refused to tell Him where Gabriel was. But if he hadn’t fought against it, it was likely that none of them would have lived to be able to reach the point of the apocalypse, and having them all back in heaven once more absolutely never would have happened.

Seeing that Samandriel was calming down, Michael moved to kneel next to Raphael, carefully reaching out to gain the fledgling’s attention. “Sami, do you know who your parents are?”

The fledgling sniffled, looking at Michael with large, wet eyes, as he snuggled into Raphael. “Don’t matter, I gots Rafa,” he mumbled, shifting to start sucking on his thumb as his eyes started drifting shut.

With a deep breath, Michael nodded, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the top of the fledgling’s head. “That’s right. You have Raphael, and the rest of us as well. Sleep, we will all be here when you wake.”

Watching as Samandriel slowly fell back to sleep, Michael spread his wings, drawing all of his brothers close to him. After the shocks of the day, they all needed to stay together, to comfort each other, and to calm down from all the stress. None of them were tired, save for Raphael after the stress, but as the healer slowly fell asleep as well, the other archangels were all in agreement.

They wouldn’t ever leave him alone again. 

* * *

 

Raphael wouldn’t heal instantly, but his siblings understood the gist of what had happened, and they wanted nothing more than to help him be okay. And for the most part, having them and Samandriel was good enough. The past hurt, but after 5000 years, maybe there had been enough time to heal, to be able to move forward. His feathers grew back and his molt ended and he was a lot happier about everything.

Lucifer started his molt during the tail end of Raphael’s molt, which was a good thing because after being in the cage for most of 6000 years and not molting, he was a little behind and his feathers showed it.

Gabriel was stressed out. He’d seen plenty of victims during his time a trickster, but this was a lot different and way closer to home than he’d ever expected it to get and he didn’t really know what to do.

HIs siblings weren’t buying the wry humor he used as a defence mechanism and he appreciated their concern, but it wasn’t  _ helping _ . “You all have to meet the guy I like!” he exclaimed finally when they were all in the big nest. “But maybe not all at once, or right now.”

The nest was thrown into chaos as they all tried to comprehend what was just said, but it was not anything they wouldn’t be able to move away from. All was well within their home, and within their lives. Nothing would be able to cause them to drift apart.

But all was not well for every angel, nor even for every young angel.

For there was one other that had escaped the notice of all, save for one who had stolen them away from their rightful place. And as all the archangels were ready to sleep, the one who was stolen away was wide awake, trapped within a life of fear.

* * *

 

Tapping. Endless, continual tapping, with no point to it, and no sense to be made. There was little he feared more than the moments when the tapping stopped, because the moment it did, the anger and the shouting and the hurting would start again, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything but crawl in a corner and cry.

There was a sound, one that came up in the shouts, one that he couldn’t understand. It was like it was something that he was supposed to be called, but why would he even try and respond, when something told him that it wasn’t what he was supposed to be called?

The tapping was slowing. Things on the table were clinking, the way the big cups did when they would bump into each other. He needed to go, to find somewhere to hide. He had learned well enough that when the tapping slowed, and the clinks started, things were going to get loud, and scary, and he would need to hide.

But moving through the house wasn’t easy for him, not like it was for the one who shouted. He couldn’t hold himself up, or take steps like the other, or even crawl fast. If he needed to hide, he needed to start moving, and quick.

So he started moving, trying to go to the dark where he was safe, to the small room with the soft cloth, or under the squeaky bed in the other’s room, back into the corner where no one would be able to find him and hurt him.

It wasn’t that often he was able to hide there, when he could be safe, because he was too slow, too small, too dumb to go where he needs to.

And as a crash sounded from the food room, and the tapping stopped entirely, his breathing quickened as tears began to fill his eyes. It was starting again, and he was in danger. He was too slow, and he would pay the price for his mistake.

The other was shouting now, but he wasn’t using the sound that demanded a response yet, but he still needed to move, to leave, to hide somewhere, and not make a sound.

But the door to the other’s room was closed. He wouldn’t ever be able to get it open, he was just too small, and the door too big. The door to the small room was open though, and he hurried to hide in there, to crawl under the soft, warm cloths that hid him so well.

As soon as he entered the small room though, another crash sounded off, with the other screaming the sound that demanded response. The one that meant hurt was coming.

He quickly crawled to the back of the room, pulling the cloths over himself, and pulling one of the smaller cloths close and chewing on it to try and keep calm and keep the other from hearing him.

There were thuds coming closer, the shouting getting louder and louder, until the other was screaming from the door to the small room, and he was shaking as tears started covering his face.

“Fine! You can stay in there for all I care!”

The other shouted, before slamming the door closed, the loud sound of the locks closing echoing through the room.

He wanted out. He wanted to be free. He wanted no more pain. But he couldn’t ever have what he wanted.

He didn’t deserve it. And he never would.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to come shout at me on tumblr, I'm sageclover61 there too.


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